In Fire and Blood
by museofmirth
Summary: Sequel to Young Blood. "It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly..." Katniss and Peeta continue to grow back together in District Twelve. As their own lives heal, they begin to consider bringing new life into the world. Post-Mockingjay, continues to epilogue
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Alright, here it is, the sequel to "Young Blood." If you are just coming across this fic and haven't read "Young Blood," then go to my page and find the link there.

And for those of you who _have_ read "Young Blood," this story starts roughly five years later. So enjoy! And as always, your feedback is appreciated. Review, comment, or message me what you think!

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_In this part of the story I am the one who_

_Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,_

_Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood._

_ - Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXVI_

She crunched through the newly fallen snow softly, early on that winter morning. She was grateful that she'd let her hair grow long, as it – tucked into her down coat – warmed her back. She thought of how much Peeta enjoyed running his fingers through the long, dark strands. How his face would light up as she unbraided it, her hair cascading over her shoulders and nearing her waist now. She had it trimmed two or three times a year, Greasy Sae making her sit still on a tall kitchen stool while the older woman went to it with a pair of sharp scissors. She remembered how he had begged her to keep it long the first time she noticed the fraying, dry ends and mentioned needing it cut. So she gave in, as she was wont to do, and told Sae "just the ends." She couldn't resist his bright blue eyes, the smile that seemed to continually play on his lips even when he was upset.

It comforted her to feel the weight of her hair – she'd left it unbraided that day, knowing she'd need the extra warmth – as she trekked through the snow-covered forest, thinking of him. Her breath ghosted around her face as she set a quick pace, despite her boots sinking a few inches into the snow with each step. Her pack wasn't heavy, nor her quiver of arrows, but the combination of her burdens, along with the layers she wore, weighed her down. But she wouldn't have traded the cold, silent world of the woods for the warmth of her hearth – unless he was there. But no, he was busy at the bakery, had left to start the fires before she even stirred. Marc was home with Anabel, who had a bad case of the flu after giving birth to their second child just weeks earlier. It was a girl, and they had named her Adelaide – or Addie, for short. While she was healthy, and strong, Anabel had quickly become weak, and then ill. Katniss thought of the young woman's happy laugh and sweet spirit and prayed silently that Anabel would recover. Peeta poured himself into his work in Marc's absence. He hadn't taken a day off in quite some time.

She paused to study a set of paw prints in the snow. They were quite fresh, though she wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours since the animal had passed that way. The snow had stopped falling sometime in the night, so there was no new precipitation to cover up the tracks. She studied them closely, noting the size and shape. Each paw print was the size of her palm, the four toe prints spread evenly around the pad. There were no visible claw marks, and Katniss knew they hadn't been made by some large dog. The tracks were solitary, so the chance that it was a wolf or wild dog further diminished, as they would have most likely been traveling in a pack. No, the tracks had been made by some large feline. They were too large to have been made by a bobcat, but were too small for a mountain lion. Katniss was suddenly thrust into a memory from long ago.

She had been twelve at the time, trying to survive on the meager tesserae she had signed up for and her skill with a bow. Gale Hawthorne had run across her in the woods one day, and though they had met years earlier when both their fathers had been killed in the mine explosion, he had finally asked her name. It wasn't true shyness, more like reservation, her need to be alone, and the fact that she hadn't spoken to anyone in the woods since her father died that made her voice come out so soft. So soft that he – his voice already deep, despite the fact that he was only fourteen – laughed when he thought she said "Catnip." She had scowled at him, corrected him countless times, but the nickname stuck after a large lynx started following her around, mostly for handouts.

The animal had come across her snares – the ones he had shown her how to set – and had made quick work of a few rabbits. She remembered how it would follow her, always close but hardly ever in sight, until she would climb a tree. She had been scared at first – though she would never admit it to Gale – the large, gray cat circling the tree, its bright gold eyes watching her. She had thrown it a squirrel, then a rabbit, until it picked up the game and slinked off happily. She had thought that would be the end of it, but the lynx would find her at least once a week after that, prowling after her until she was unable to catch any prey. She had been sad to kill the large cat, but had no other choice. Of course she had set the line of her mouth straight, kept her emotions in check around Gale, lest she be seen as weak. His gray eyes were hard and a sly smile spread across his face when he saw the predator, dead. He carried its heavy body for her until the woods gave way to more traveled paths. When she sold the pelt for a decent price, she had tried to split the money with him, but he had given her a steely look and refused.

That had been nearly twelve years ago. Twelve years – half of her life. She wondered if the lynx that had made tracks in the snow was a descendant of the one she had killed all those years ago.

She followed the tracks for some time, but the cat eluded her. She turned back once the sun was high in the sky, the snow sparkling around her. Her pack was still empty of game, but she didn't mind. The winter had been mild so far, and she had shot plenty of prey earlier in the season. More and more people had started hunting, so that Mayor Thom had been forced to implement stricter rules. That had been a few years back, as animal populations had begun to dwindle once more. Now, with people having to sign up and pay for licenses and facing hefty fines if they were caught hunting or selling game without one, the wild animal populations were bouncing back.

She shot three squirrels that afternoon, and checked her snares. She smiled to herself when she thought about Thom, who was now serving his second consecutive term as mayor. His wedding to Leevy was less than two weeks away, and Katniss was glad that it was someone else's elaborate ceremony and not hers. Had it been any other couple in town, they might have had a quiet toasting and small reception. But because Thom was the mayor, he had been pressured into having a larger ceremony. Katniss was thankful that she and Peeta would merely be guests. There would be no film crews, no stylists or designers from the Capitol – though Leevy had ordered a very beautiful gown from there and had it tailored to fit. Katniss was happy for the couple and their winter wedding. She'd even accompanied Leevy to several dress fittings over the past few months. Peeta was going to make the couple's wedding cake, and Katniss was sure it would be as exquisite – and as delicious – as their own had been.

She thought it odd, the way time passed now. Each year seemed to go by quicker than the last. Five and a half years had elapsed since she had walked down the aisle in front of hundreds. Since she and Peeta had exchanged vows and rings, eaten cake and danced under the large white tent. Five and a half years since she had last seen her mother, and Gale Hawthorne. She still kept in touch with the older woman over the phone, calling her at least once a week. Hazelle had started writing to her shortly after the wedding, and Katniss received letters from her every few months, telling of Rory and Vick and Posy's accomplishments. Sometimes she mentioned Gale, but Katniss would skim over those parts, her mind blocking out the words. Rory had finished school and was now the same age that Gale had been during the rebellion. She wondered if he had the same smoldering eyes, the same strong jaw. He was working with Gale now, she knew, but Hazelle had been vague about the specific nature of their work. Maybe she didn't know. Or maybe she purposefully left out the details, for Katniss's sake.

Vick and Posy were still in school. Little Posy was thirteen, which Katniss could scarcely believe. Hazelle's only daughter was now the same age Prim had been when– Katniss shook the thought from her head. No length of time could ever heal that wound completely. It was not aching and raw anymore, no. Instead, it crept up on Katniss like the long claws of winter. At first it was a thought, like a mere nagging chill. Then it became a slow, seeping sadness – a deeper cold – until she was enveloped by it, some days crippled by the sorrow of her sister never living to see the end of the rebellion, the rebuilding of the district. It was like the true cold that went straight to the bone, that knocked the breath from her lungs the moment she tried to inhale.

But Peeta was there to be the shining sun that brought warmth into her life, that pulled her out of the chasm of sorrow and loss. He had lost his entire family in the firebombing of District Twelve, but he dealt with that pain in his own way, finding refuge in his work. Whether it was baking or painting, he would throw himself into it completely, not emerging until he could do so with a smile on his face and a bright look in his eyes.

He was stronger than she had ever imagined. She thought about the blond-haired boy she'd seen on Reaping Day, his face red and puffy and tear-stained after they had said their goodbyes. She had kept her emotions in check that day. But now she was Mrs. Mellark, who had days where it took every ounce of willpower just to get out of bed.

But winter was a good season for Katniss. She enjoyed the quiet of the woods blanketed in snow. Enjoyed taking her time plodding through the thick substance. Despite the shorter days, there was something calming about a world covered in white, the feel of a warm cup of tea in her hands after hours in the cold.

Peeta, on the other hand, struggled with the cold, his left leg throbbing when the temperature dropped. His prosthesis would grow so cold that he had to remove it some nights before slipping into bed beside her. He looked so damaged those nights, empty space where the rest of his leg should have been, pink and white scars swirling across his forehead, back, and shoulders. If the disfigurement bothered him, he never let on about it. He was still young and handsome, despite his marred skin and missing limb. And so Katniss would touch his face gently, tilting his head so that their gazes met and he saw the look of comfort in her eyes. Then she would press a kiss onto his lips, his cheeks, onto every scar on his forehead and body. He still moved deftly without his prosthetic leg, and he would close the inches that remained between their bodies. And then her fingers would make slow worship of him, her body an effigy offered up in adulation.

The thought of those cold winter nights turned warm tugged at something deep within her, made her cheeks – chapped by the biting wind – become pink as she crouched behind a fallen log, watching a large bird scavenge in the underbrush. She moved quickly, startling the bird into flight. Luckily, it flew toward the clearing and not back into the trees, and so she had a clear shot. The grouse dropped to the snow with a dull thud and Katniss lowered her bow. She pulled the arrow from its chest and stuffed the bird into her pack. The wild grouse reminded her of the smaller groosling she had killed years ago during the games. It made her think of Rue, whose dark, round eyes had grown even wider when Katniss had given her a whole drumstick to eat.

_First Prim, now Rue? You're doing a great job of cheering yourself up,_ she told herself, sarcasm permeating her thoughts.

She shook her head as if to physically shake off the melancholy that surrounded her, then straightened up. She shifted the weight of the pack so that it rested evenly on her back and was about to set off when a pair of golden eyes locked with hers.

Not twenty yards across the clearing, the lynx appeared. He watched her as he slowly descended the ridge, his movement fluid and full of power. He paused, and for a moment she thought he might attack – or at least follow her, as the lynx from twelve years ago had done. But he merely blinked, then turned and plodded off quietly back into the forest.

She didn't pursue his tracks this time. No, she merely glanced at them as she passed, her boot tracks marring the perfect line of the lynx's paw prints.

She smiled to think that she would have a story to tell Peeta. Most evenings, he came home from the bakery and she would ask about his day. He would smile and become more and more animated as he spoke, telling her about the bakery, news and gossip from town, and who he'd seen out and about. She let him do most of the talking over dinner, and sometimes his stories would spill over into the quiet evening hours after the nightly meal. She would smile and laugh and nod her head at the appropriate moments, but when it came time for her to speak, she was usually rather vague.

"And how was your day?" He would ask with a smile or a kiss.

"Oh, it was good," she would reply, her lips curving into a smile in response to the bright look on his face. She would throw in a few statements about what she did – whether it was hunting or trapping or calling her mother on the telephone – but she hardly ever expounded.

She smiled as the snow crunched underfoot, knowing that she'd have something else to tell him that night. She frowned, though, to think of Anabel so sick, and hoped that Peeta would have good news. Anabel was young and strong, but she _had_ just given birth a few weeks earlier. Katniss had known many folks from the Seam who had succumbed to influenza, but they were usually young children – whose wide eyes and thin frames spoke of perpetual hunger – or the very old. Katniss's mother used to send family members home with willow bark for the fevers and instruct them to keep the person who was ill under relative quarantine. It was really all that could be done, and most that were hale recovered after a week or so.

Katniss was grateful that there were only a few isolated cases in the district – so far, at least – and not a widespread outbreak. Greasy Sae handed out herbal remedies to those who came to her doorstep, and – along with some of the other older women of the district – assisted with childbirth. But in the six years since Katniss had returned, no healer or physician had moved into the district. Hopefully that would all change once the factory was built, Katniss thought. But help might not come soon enough for some.

Toward the end of fall, it was announced that a factory would be built on the outskirts of town where the coalmines had been. The land had been bulldozed over years ago, and some of the earth had been tilled for farmland that alternated between wheat, potatoes, and corn. Now, the remaining space was going to be used to build a factory, a factory for medical supplies. Katniss had been relieved to hear that it wasn't a weapons factory, and hoped it meant there would be healers or physicians back in the district.

Katniss then turned her thoughts to the rebuilding of the district as she plodded through the snow back to the Victor's Village. Much of the reconstruction had occurred when she had been consumed by grief. The new storefronts and houses around town had all been built while she sat in her home in the Victor's Village, each day marked by the coming and going of Greasy Sae and occasionally her granddaughter. If Katniss felt regret for her behavior upon first moving back to the district, she pushed it aside. What use would she have been to those construction workers? What would she have done, boost their moral by making an appearance after she'd assassinated Coin?

She almost laughed at the thought, and then recalled Peeta telling her how half the townsfolk had been scared of her for months. But then she had gone from being branded the town lunatic, holed up in her house, to something more akin to a sideshow curiosity. Her sporadic appearances around town made people wonder about her return. She seemed stable enough, on the outside at least. But once the townsfolk realized she was harmless, and quite ordinary, she became a valued – and respected – citizen of District Twelve. That had been over the course of a year, the year she first returned. She had been oblivious to most of the idle gossip, though. But she had been something of a recluse – a shut-in – at first, so it was no wonder that the rumors had started. Peeta had moved back a short while later and immediately started working on the new bakery. Once they were back on speaking terms, he would describe bits and pieces of the conversations he overheard.

"I always knew that girl would break," someone would say. "What with her daddy dyin' and then being in those games…"

"And her sister died too, the little one." Someone else would add. They'd shake their heads with what might have been pity on their faces.

"You talkin' about Everdeen's daughter?" A curious passerby would ask. "I went to school with the mom. She went crazy from grief when he died. Nearly let the two girls starve to death…"

"Wasn't she the apothecary's daughter?" One of them would ask.

"Yeah, but she fell in love and married that boy from the Seam. Makes sense why the daughter's a bit off her rocker…"

"Too bad we don't have an apothecary anymore." Someone would say and the conversation would shift to a different topic altogether.

Katniss had shrugged it all off. She had never been one to have a large circle of friends and acquaintances. She had always kept to herself, except when she was in the woods with Gale. Madge had been the closest thing she had to a friend at school. Yet somehow, despite the rumors of her being crazed and dangerous, she had amassed more friends upon her return to the district than she ever had before. Of course that was mostly thanks to Peeta, who never met a stranger.

Katniss shifted her pack, now weighed down by the squirrels and grouse, and tried to clear her mind of the thoughts that teemed there, the sound of her boots crunching evenly through the snow a metronome for her journey back home.

It was dark by the time she arrived, and her heart sped up when she spied Peeta through the lighted kitchen window. It didn't matter that they had been married for five and a half years, her love for him felt as new and surprising as the moment she had first realized her feelings toward him. She knew she would always have a home there with Peeta. He was her warmth on cold winter nights. He was the bright sun under which she had bloomed

He greeted her from the kitchen sink as she traipsed in through the back door, stopping on the mat to avoid tracking in snow. He smiled as she tossed her pack on the ground and bent to remove her boots. When she straightened back up he was near her and she let him help her out of the thick down coat. He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, but she pulled back after a moment to remove her hat and scarf.

"I reheated some stew for our dinner," he explained.

Katniss saw the pot of stew where it sat on the stove. There was a fresh loaf of bread warm and ready to be sliced on the counter near it. She smiled, her stomach rumbling at the hearty aroma. She turned back toward Peeta and pressed her lips to his. She had meant it to be a quick peck, but his hands found her waist and the kiss deepened. He pulled her flush against him and she reveled in his warmth, the smell of flour and cinnamon that lingered on his skin, the hard lines of muscle beneath her hands. She began to lose herself in the kiss, her fingers moving to brush the curve of his jaw. But she stopped when she felt him leading her toward the couch. Her mind had forgotten the food, but her stomach hadn't. It let out another loud rumble as Katniss pulled back from the kiss.

"I'm _hungry_," she said matter-of-factly, giving him a long look.

"Ok, ok," he chuckled, his hands still grasping her waist firmly. She raised an eyebrow at him and he let go, lifting his hands in defeat as he laughed. She turned and headed toward the stove, where the stew waited.

"Any news on Marc and Anabel?" She asked sometime later, between mouthfuls of stew. Peeta swallowed a large bite before answering.

"Anabel's doing better. A _lot_ better." He said. "Marc offered to come back to work tomorrow, but I told him to take the rest of the week off."

Katniss felt a wave of relief flood her and nodded. Anabel had been ill long enough to know that Marc probably wouldn't come down with the flu. Still, he should stay home for a few more days to make certain. Rye and little Addie had been whisked off to their grandmother's house at the first signs of illness, and luckily neither had gotten sick. Katniss realized how difficult it must have been for Anabel to be away from her children for so long, and was glad the young woman was improving. Katniss had experienced enough loss for one lifetime. She could do without any more.

Of course there were other tragedies. Like when Bim Praydor – who had been missing for several days – was found drowned last spring after a heavy rain. Or when the Faulks' house caught fire two years back, sending the whole block of tiny cottages up in flames. Or when Bryn Makepeace labored for a day and a half only to deliver her baby stillborn. The infant was buried in the tiniest coffin Katniss had ever seen.

Once they had finished their meal, Katniss and Peeta washed the dishes together, their bodies pressed close as they stood in front of the sink.

"Oh, I saw lynx today, out in the woods," Katniss spoke over the sound of water running. Peeta, who was dutifully drying the dishes, turned to look at her.

"Oh wow," he said, the look in his eyes urging her to continue.

"I came across the tracks first," she explained as she washed a bowl. "But then later, I saw it – it just walked right out into the open in front of me, gave me a look, then turned and walked away…"

"I don't think I even know what a lynx looks like…" Peeta said, his blue eyes gazing off thoughtfully.

"You know, a l_ynx_," Katniss started, an amused look on her face. "Like a big gray bobcat. Big paws, little tail. Pointy ears…" She put her hands on either side of her head, index fingers up, to demonstrate.

Peeta gave her a quizzical look, and then laughed. He captured her hands, which were still up on her head, and bent to kiss her. She kissed him back with fervor, and the dishes were soon forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Yay, here is chapter 2! And in it, a wedding! I love writing weddings, hehe. Makes me think of all the weddings I've been in and all my friends that have gotten married. I tried to make this ceremony not be a carbon copy of K and P's, but I apologize if any of the wording is the same. There are only so many ways to say the same thing, hehe.

And thank you, thank you, thank you to all of those who reviewed chapter 1. Twenty-two reviews for the first chapter? That's amazing! If I haven't personally PM'd you to send my thanks, then I apologize. But just know that I read every review and appreciate them all. So keep 'em coming, and I'll keep the chapters coming!

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The morning of Thom and Leevy's wedding dawned bright – golden sunlight cascading over the snowdrifts. It was cold, but not unseasonably so, though Katniss was reluctant to pull herself out of bed and away from Peeta's perpetual warmth.

She let out a long sigh and threw the covers off swiftly, her bare feet touching the frigid wooden floor gingerly. She was thankful that she had convinced Peeta to have the central heating repaired a few years back, but the house was still cold in the mornings. She was also thankful she had showered the night before, after a long day in the wilderness, and wouldn't have to struggle with her long hair being wet on the chilly morning.

Peeta stirred and gave her a look as she quickly slipped into a pair of pants, her bare legs disappearing beneath the fabric. She pulled on a thick sweater over her undershirt, then leaned across the bed to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"What time is it?" He asked with a smile as she straightened back up.

"Early," she replied matter-of-factly. "And _you_ have a cake to bake."

He blinked up at her for a moment, then pushed himself up out of bed. He was groggy, and nearly forgot that he had removed his prosthetic leg the night before. He swayed where he stood, all of his weight on his right leg, then quickly sat back down on the edge of the bed, strapping on the prosthesis with a shiver as the cold metal and plastic touched his skin.

"You'd think I would know by now…" He said quietly, as if to himself, and Katniss felt something dark beneath the self-deprecation.

"And I already baked the cake," he added brightly, swinging his left leg out before standing up. "It's in the cooler, ready to go. Just have to ice and decorate it."

Katniss watched him as he pulled on a pair of slacks and buttoned his shirt. He caught her gazing at him and gave her a wry smile.

"What are you doing up so early?" He asked, a look of mischief on his features.

"I promised I'd help Leevy this morning, remember?" She thought she recalled telling Peeta her plans a few days prior.

"Oh, that's right," he replied with a look of recognition. "Have fun," he chuckled, and Katniss didn't know if he was genuinely happy that she was helping a friend or if he was making some sort of jest at her expense.

"I'll be back later, to change," she explained after brushing her teeth and braiding her hair. She stuck her head back into the bedroom.

"You mean you're not wearing that to the wedding?" Peeta quipped playfully, giving her the one over with his eyes. She tugged at the hem of her oversized sweater and glanced at her plain cotton pants, threadbare at the knees.

"I'll see _you_ later," she replied, ignoring his question. "And I expect you won't show up covered in flour," she added from the doorway, mimicking Effie Trinket's high-pitched accent perfectly.

Peeta's laughter followed her as she descended the stairs and grabbed her thick down coat. She heard the sound of him clomping around upstairs as she laced her boots and headed out the back door.

Katniss walked briskly toward town, the cold air biting with each breath. She had the lane to herself all the way to Leevy's house, no other soul braving the freezing temperature so early that day. Katniss knocked, then quickly shoved her uncovered hands back into her coat pockets. Levan answered just a few seconds later.

"Katniss is here!" He yelled, not even bothering to greet her. He was fifteen now, tall and wiry with dark features that spoke of the Seam.

"Hey Levan," Katniss said softly, but he had already turned around.

"She's HERE!" Levan yelled again, the volume of his voice jarring Katniss. She let out a sigh and shook her head, pushing past him and into the house.

Katniss made her way to the front bedroom and Leevy greeted her warmly. She appeared to have been spraying some concoction on her long hair, then rolling pieces up into curlers.

"I'm _so_ glad you're here," Leevy said in one long breath. Katniss noticed that the usually reserved girl had the look of a startled deer about her, her gray eyes wide, her breathing quickened.

"How can I help?" Katniss offered cheerfully, but saw in the large mirror that her eyes betrayed her, filled with concern.

"I can't find my shoes," Leevy revealed, showing Katniss the disastrous area that had once been a closet. The large wedding gown was hanging up, covered in a garment bag, and luckily rather unscathed.

"They came in while back," Leevy was explaining as Katniss stepped over piles of clothes. "I just don't remember where I put them…"

"They were the white ones, right, with the little block heel…?" Katniss attempted. She remembered the general look of the shoe, as she'd been present when Leevy ordered the pair.

Leevy nodded and described the shoes in further detail, showing Katniss where she thought she had stowed them. After a moment of more frantic searching on Leevy's part, Katniss steered the girl back toward the stool that sat perched in front of the mirror.

"Here, you sit," Katniss instructed. Leevy obeyed and picked up a curler to finish her hair. "Don't worry, I'll find your shoes."

After searching through Leevy's closet and under the bed, Katniss finally located the shoes, tucked away in their box on a shelf in the hall closest. She was glad she didn't have to search Levan's room, as he stared daggers at her each time her eyes had wandered that way. Leevy exclaimed happily when Katniss showed her the shoes, shaking her head when she learned where they had been.

"The hall closet! Now I remember putting them there," Leevy admitted sheepishly.

Leevy was content with Katniss sitting on the edge of the bed as the soon-to-be newlywed finished putting in the curlers. But Katniss wasn't one for idle chatter, unless it was Peeta's. So they sat in amicable silence until it was all too much for Katniss and she started straightening up Leevy's mess of a closet.

"You really don't have to do that," Leevy protested quietly, waiting for the timer on the heated curlers to go off.

"I don't mind," Katniss replied, stuffing shoes back into their boxes, hanging up sweaters and pants.

After she had tidied up, Katniss went into the tiny kitchen to make some tea. Sipping on the warm liquid a short while later, she wished she had some of Peeta's frosted cookies to accompany it. Leevy busied herself with the hot curlers, twisting them gently out of her hair to reveal perfect, tight curls. Katniss helped Leevy pull some of the dark strands away from her face and pin them back with a jeweled comb. Katniss excused herself some time later so that she could head back to the Victor's Village to get dressed.

"You'll come back, won't you?" Leevy asked, her gray eyes wide. Katniss had promised the girl weeks ago that she would help her with the gown and getting to the Justice Building in the snow.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," Katniss said with a smile. "In the mean time, Levan is here to help." She added, earning a scowl from the teenager.

Katniss stretched her legs on the walk home. It was warmer now that it was closer to midday and so she strolled back, almost tempted to stop in at the bakery and check on Peeta. She decided against it, though, as she would see him later at the wedding. She was happy to help Leevy on such an occasion, but was also glad that she had an excuse to get away and clear her thoughts for a while. She unzipped her down coat halfway to the Victor's Village, the rising temperature combined with the thick garment making her sweat.

She found her house empty, except for Buttercup. The cat lifted its head lazily to gaze at Katniss, its rotten squash eyes half-lidded as it lay in the armchair. Katniss laughed to herself to think the hideous cat would probably outlive them all. How many years had it been since she tried to drown the thing? Her heart clinched painfully when she thought of Prim begging her to spare the cat. _Another mouth to feed_ had been Katniss's only thought, but she couldn't say no to Prim's pleading blue eyes. Prim, who would have been twenty now, perhaps even planning her own wedding.

Katniss had quickly agreed to help Leevy plan her wedding to Thom, as Katniss was the girl's closet friend and had been through a lavish ceremony of her own. But something nagged at Katniss, a feeling of uneasiness mixed with despair. At first, she had pushed the odd sense of despondency to the back of her mind, putting on a cheerful face for Peeta and Leevy. She hadn't understood, in the beginning, why she wasn't simply happy for the couple. She had played her role perfectly, advising Leevy on place settings, decorations, and even her gown. It was only when she was cleaning the living room and knocked down the book of memories from high up on a shelf that she began to understand her feelings. She looked down to see Prim smiling back up at her from a photo pasted onto the page, and Katniss realized she was feeling the loss of her sister more acutely at such a time. She realized she would never be able to help Prim pick out decorations or invitations. She would never be there as her sister tried on countless wedding gowns, fretted over veils, or teetered about in white high-heeled shoes.

Peeta had noticed the melancholy that had settled over Katniss, and it was even more apparent that evening, after she had knocked down the book. She had been tight-lipped, despite the worried looks he sent her way. It wasn't until they were undressing for bed that he finally brought it up.

"What's wrong, Katniss?" He asked softly.

He had been watching her all evening, the way she had been so quiet, her jaw set, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if in pain. She stopped mid-movement and gazed up at him.

"It's nothing," she lied, glancing back down at her feet, stepping carefully out of her pants.

"Katniss…" He said, drawing her name out. He knew she was keeping something from him, and it annoyed her.

She pulled off her shirt and approached him, tugging at her undershirt in the process. She was crawling across the bed and kissing him before he could protest, hoping she could distract him. She pushed him down against the bed and she thought he had raised his arms to pull her down on top of him. But then his hands were resting solidly on her bare shoulders, and he shifted her away from him.

"Katniss," he repeated in a sterner tone. His breathing was heavy, though, and she knew it was taking quite some willpower for him to not give in and pull her back down on top of him.

"I need you to tell me what's wrong," he said after taking a moment to compose himself. She sat on the edge of the bed and he straightened up to sit beside her.

"It's the wedding…" She admitted finally, letting out a long sigh. "It's not Leevy, or anything she's done," Katniss added quickly.

Peeta's hand closed over hers and she let the warmth and strength she felt there comfort her.

"It's that…it's…" Katniss started, but she had trouble finding the right words.

She felt the sting of tears as they formed in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but failed. Peeta's hand moved to gently cup her face, and she looked at him through the haze of tears.

"_She_ isn't here," Katniss managed, the words coming out thick and strangled. "Prim isn't here…"

And Peeta moved to wrap his arms around her as she cried openly, desperately, her head resting on his bare shoulder.

That had been weeks ago, and Katniss inhaled deeply as she scaled the stairs to her bedroom, clearing her mind of the sorrow that lived there. She would always carry Prim with her – the memory of her younger sister so bright and loving, her death so sudden and terrifying. But for today, she could push it aside and be happy for Leevy, who had lost her family too, after all.

Katniss changed quickly, pulling on a rather simple long-sleeved dress and thick, woolen leggings. She let her hair out of its braid and ran a brush through it several times before re-plaiting it. She grabbed a scarf from her closet and threw on her thick down coat before heading back out into the cold. She waved cheerfully at her neighbors out and about and called to some by name. She was met with smiles and hearty waves in return as she picked up her pace back to Leevy's. Many of them were headed to the Justice Building, where the wedding was going to be held. With Thom being the mayor, most of the town had been invited to the ceremony. There were even those who no longer lived in the district that had been invited.

"Thom invited him…" Leevy had said one day, months ago, at a fitting. It took Katniss a second, but then she realized whom the shy girl meant.

"Thom invited Gale," Leevy said, her gray eyes flitting over Katniss's face, watching her expression.

Of course it made sense that Thom had invited Gale Hawthorne to the wedding. Gale had been friends with Thom before Katniss. The two men were closer in age, had worked the mines together on the same crew. It would have been discourteous to not invite him, Katniss thought. It only surprised Katniss that she no longer felt a sharp pang when his name was mentioned. No, she hadn't really felt anything when Leevy spoke his name, and it was perplexing, and quite sad.

"I don't know if he'll come or not…" Leevy continued softly. "Thom hasn't heard back from him…"

Katniss smiled, and a look of relief passed over Leevy's worried features. _It's ok_, Katniss wanted to tell her. _I'm ok, if he shows up or if he doesn't_. But she just nodded, her lips marking out an even wider curve on her face until Leevy broke into a smile as well.

Katniss doubted he would show up as he had at her own wedding, unannounced, standing there as if to make a scene. She told herself she was relieved when Thom received a letter from Gale filled with an apology and an excuse as to why he couldn't attend. But beyond her own curiosity, there wasn't much else.

Katniss returned to Leevy's small cottage right off the town square, watching as folks headed to the ceremony. After helping the shy girl into her gown, assuring that every hair was in place and that her makeup was flawless, Katniss walked Leevy through the center of town and up to the Justice Building. It was a short walk, but Katniss and Levan had to lift Leevy's skirt and train to avoid the dirt and snow on the ground. Katniss would have laughed if Leevy had not looked so frightened - as if any loud noise or sudden movement would send her running.

They waited next door in the Mayor's Mansion until the clock struck three, then made their way to the front steps of the Justice Building, Leevy's skirt and train held high. Katniss remembered the whirlwind that had been her wedding day and recognized the far-off look in Leevy's gray eyes. They climbed the steps carefully and two older gentlemen – both from the town council – held the large doors open as Leevy entered. Katniss and Levan followed, struggling to straighten her gown and her veil. The main hall had been cleared of its desks and partitions, and the space had been filled with row after row of chairs now occupied by wedding guests. The stately columns and banisters had been decorated with ribbons and lights, and the center aisle was covered in red fabric. Leevy paused at the entranceway and Katniss helped her out of her woolen coat as Levan took his place beside her. The brother and sister linked arms before walking down the aisle.

Katniss watched from the back as Leevy advanced toward Thom, who was beaming at the front of the aisle. Leevy's dress flowed out gracefully from her thin figure, the ivory silk shimmering in the incandescent light. The gown was form-fitted and hugged her body beautifully. The neckline plunged dramatically low in the front after descending from a collar that framed her delicate neck. Leevy's arms were encased in smooth silk sleeves that ended at each of her tiny wrists, befitting a winter wedding. Perfectly round ivory buttons adorned each sleeve and punctuated the back of her gown. Her dark curls fell softly over her shoulders, the lace veil cascading from the jeweled comb and down to the floor.

As Levan released his sister and she grabbed hold of Thom's hands, Katniss realized she was still standing at the back of the hall, clutching Leevy's coat tightly. Katniss caught sight of Peeta as the audience was seated, his blond hair and the scars that danced across the back of this neck clearly visible. He was sitting near the end of a row and Katniss moved quickly to sit beside him, stuffing her down coat and Leevy's woolen one beneath the seat in front of her. Peeta whispered a quick greeting and found her hand, his warm fingers lacing with hers.

The ceremony was simple, and quiet, Leevy's soft voice barely audible as she read her vows. Thom stood transfixed in front of his bride, and Katniss couldn't help but smile at the genuine love and affection that were written all over his features. She wondered if Peeta's feelings for her were so apparent to others, but she didn't even have to glance his way to know that they were. Haymitch and Greasy Sae had known about his love for her long before Katniss. She almost felt foolish to think that what was so obvious to outsiders looking in could seem so confusing to her.

Rings were exchanged and Thom kissed Leevy to boisterous applause. The official from the Capitol announced the grinning couple to the crowd and the hall erupted into more cacophonous cheers. The guests were then herded to the back of the hall as the area was transformed. The innumberable chairs were moved so that long tables could be placed throughout the hall for the reception. Peeta disappeared after a moment and Katniss saw him off in the distance with Marc, the two men making their way toward a room off to the side. Katniss held her and Leevy's coats awkwardly until she caught sight of Anabel. The mother of two looked wan, but the smile that broke out across her face when she waved to Katniss brought life back into her features. She was thin, despite having given birth three months prior, and looked older, but maintained her cheerful spirit. She shuffled through the crowd with Rye, who tried to tug away from her grip. The boy of six grinned when he saw Katniss.

Katniss gathered Anabel into a tight hug, surprising herself more than the young mother.

"Rye, why don't you get those coats from your Aunt Kat and take them to the coat room?" Anabel bent to ask her son. The boy saw the two heavy garments and reached out his arms. "You remember where it is, right? Up at the front…"

Anabel pointed the boy toward the entranceway as Katniss thanked him. His mother watched as he ran toward the designated area, nearly tripping as the two large coats weighed him down. Katniss stretched out her arms as Anabel waited for Rye to return.

"How are you feeling?" Katniss asked. "And where's Addie?" She had noticed the absence of the infant.

"I'm doing good," Anabel responded with a smile, peering through the crowd so that her eyes were always on Rye. "Just getting my strength back. And Addie's with my mother, at home." She added. "Didn't think I should bring a fussy three-month-old to the Mayor's wedding." She said and let out a mirthful laugh.

Rye came back in a huff, as if he had just performed some extraordinary feat. Anabel leaned down to kiss him, but he pulled back, protesting.

"Where's Uncle Peet?" He asked Katniss brightly after a moment, using the nickname he'd chosen for his favorite "relative."

"I don't know," Katniss replied, looking about the hall. "He went off with your dad somewhere."

"Oh, they went to get the cake," Anabel explained and Rye's ears perked up at the mention of the treat.

Sure enough, Marc and Peeta emerged from a room off to the side a few minutes later, balancing the large wedding cake between them. Katniss cringed, knowing that Peeta wasn't always the steadiest on his prosthetic leg. But the crowd parted and the two men set the tiered cake down on its own table gingerly, the large structure exquisite – and intact.

Rye ran off to greet the men and Katniss watched as Marc grabbed the boy up into his arms, tossing Rye's small frame into the air and catching him as he descended. Peeta ruffled the boy's hair good-naturedly, a wistful look on his face. Katniss knew that look well, as it had appeared only hours after Rye's birth. The look would show up every-so-often, like when Marc would bring some news of his son's accomplishments to the bakery or when the family was over at the Victor's Village for dinner. And Katniss would have to cross her arms over her chest and give Peeta a long look in return. A look that said she knew what he was thinking and that the answer – for now – was no.

Katniss and Peeta lined up with Marc, Anabel, and Rye to congratulate the newlyweds. Both Leevy and Thom hugged Katniss warmly and thanked her, though Katniss tried to shrug it off. She didn't feel as if she'd been of any great help to Leevy. They thanked Peeta as well.

"It's not often that I get to take on big projects like this," Peeta was saying, gazing over at the wedding cake.

And the cake was quite a project. It was even bigger than their own had been. Rye led Katniss over to the table for a closer look, his small hand fitting into her larger one perfectly. He pointed out the square tiers, the delicate snow flakes that Peeta had made from crystallized sugar. There were pinecones sculpted entirely from chocolate, dusted in powdered sugar snow. Peeta's skill and artistry were evident, and Katniss stared in wonder until Rye tugged at her again, leading her back toward his parents. Peeta, Marc, and Anabel had found a table near the edge of the hall, and Katniss joined them gladly. Rye chattered away during the meal, and Katniss smiled to herself to think of how much the boy took after his mother.

"What's so funny…?" Peeta leaned close and asked softly, seeing the expression on Katniss's face.

"Oh, nothing," Katniss said, continuing to smile as she took a bite from her roll – rolls that Peeta had made.

He glanced at her again, though, and then across to where Rye sat, enthusiastically explaining something to his mother. A sly look spread across Peeta's features.

"So when are we going to have two or three…?" He asked quietly, mischief behind his words as he nodded toward Marc and Anabel's son.

"Two or three?" Katniss nearly choked on her bite of bread, trying to keep her voice down. She gave Peeta a scathing look.

"Yeah, two or three…" He repeated himself, his tone light. "When are we going to start…_you know_..." Peeta said, once again nodding toward Rye. Katniss just shook her head at him.

"You still haven't convinced me to have the first one yet…" She said, a hint of warning in her tone. She pulled her eyes away from his and stuffed another bite of food into her mouth.

"Yet…" He said softly.

He had spoken as if to himself. She glanced back up at him and saw that his bright blue eyes were trained on Rye. And in them she saw the sorrow and loss he carried with him, but eclipsing it all, there was hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry, I got a little behind writing this chapter because I was busy over the past few days! I was going to upload it earlier, but I was skyping with my sig. other, hehe :). Anyway, here it is! So glad you enjoyed the last chapter with Thom and Leevy's wedding!

And so I don't confuse anyone, this chapter takes place about 6 months after the wedding, so it's June and it's been 6 years since Katniss and Peeta were married. Hope that makes sense!

Thanks to my awesome readers and reviewers! You guys are the BEST. Please, please, please continue to give feedback. It really means a lot to me!

* * *

There were two white horses in a field near the edge of town. At least there had been, for years. The animals were gone now, though, and Katniss wondered if the horses had been old or if the owner had simply moved. Peeta would know, as he knew most of the happenings in the district. But Peeta wasn't currently in District Twelve, and Katniss felt something squeeze her heart at the thought.

He'd been gone for a few days now. Three days and two hours to be precise, though Katniss hardly ever kept track of time down to the exact minute. Unless she had to. In the case of Peeta's absence, she had been tracking the hours she'd spent alone, as well as counting down the minutes until his return. It had been six, almost seven years since she'd been banished back to District Twelve, but her travel restrictions had yet to be lifted. Peeta had gone back to the Capitol to be fit for a new prosthesis, and though she had no desire to ever visit that place again, she would have done so in order to be with him.

Peeta had only been to the Capitol once in the seven years since he had moved back to the outlying district, and that had been a precaution, after he had sustained a concussion. The last time he had been fit with a brand new artificial leg was after the rebellion, while he was undergoing reversal therapy with the doctors in the Capitol. The wear and tear of everyday life, combined with walking to and from the bakery each day and the occasional jaunt into the woods with Katniss had reduced the complex hybrid of metal and plastic, wires and motors to a useless, cumbersome contraption. Peeta's limp had become more pronounced, and he winced in pain often as he walked, the prosthesis thudding about awkwardly.

After a few phone calls to various doctors and medics in the Capitol, Peeta started packing.

"It'll only be a few days," he told her when he was met with sullen looks. She knew he had to go, but she was still hesitant. In six years, they hadn't been apart for more than the span of a day's work.

"I know," she admitted, albeit reluctantly.

"They're just going to fit me for a new artificial limb, then I'll test it out for a day or so, then I'll be back," he explained brightly. Katniss didn't feel any happier to let him go, though.

"Hopefully it'll be a lot more lightweight," he mentioned.

"What were they fussing at you about?" Katniss asked, thinking back to one of the phone calls Peeta had made.

Halfway through the conversation, Peeta had laughed nervously and started rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He had then apologized to whomever was on the other end of the line and delivered several "I knows."

"Oh," Peeta said, smiling abashedly. "These artificial limbs are only supposed to last three to four years, max. They weren't too happy that I waited so long…" Peeta chuckled.

"Peeta…" Katniss breathed his name, an inkling of admonition in her voice. He just smiled, sheepishly, and laughed again.

And she would have asked him why he had waited so long, why he had waited twice the normal length of time for replacement, but she saw the look on his face. The look beneath the self-deprecating humor. The look that said he hadn't gone because he didn't want to leave her, had promised to be there for her. And she realized that he had neglected his own comfort – to the point he could barely walk – for her.

Haymitch had been right all those years ago when he said she didn't deserve Peeta.

He pulled the prosthesis off slowly, the chagrin on his features turning into pain. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Katniss lowered herself onto the mattress and crawled toward him. Her arms slid over his shoulders and she rested her forehead on his back.

"I love you," she said quietly. "But you have to take care of yourself…" Her voice trailed off.

She felt like a hypocrite. She was the one that had been swallowed by grief when she had returned to the district. She hadn't even been able to keep up personal hygiene for a while, sitting in the rocking chair day after day in the same pair of clothes, her hair a rat's nest, her teeth unbrushed. And she still had days where the sorrow was so crushing that she didn't feel human. Yet here she was, telling Peeta he needed to take better care of himself, and all for her selfish reasons.

She let out a sigh and Peeta turned, his arms gathering her up and pulling her against him. They lay down in bed, her head against his chest, his hands running through her long, dark hair.

"I just…" He started, his voice soft. "I just didn't ever want to leave…"

The sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady, punctuated his words. He hugged her tighter.

"I know," she whispered in return, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt beneath her lips as she spoke.

"But when it's things like this," she began again. "When it has to do with your health, you have to go."

She had expected him to let out a guilty "I know," but he was quiet. The rise and fall of his chest tempted her to doze, but she kept her eyes open. His breathing hadn't slowed, and so she knew he was awake as well. She could have turned and propped herself up, brought her face close to his and covered his mouth with hers, soft and yielding. But some nights were best for enjoying the quiet. For no other movement than holding on to one another, her head resting on his chest or shoulder, their bodies transferring heat as they had done a lifetime ago in that cave. Only this time, there were no ulterior motives, no need to gain the favor of an expectant audience. There was no need to play a part other than what was real.

And so in his absence, Katniss had walked to the field near the edge of town to survey the construction. The new factory was being built, the equipment for the project having been rolled off train cars after the snow had melted in early spring. It was mid-June now, and the factory building itself looked complete. Work on the inside, along with setting up all of the machinery necessary for its function, was what the crews were focused on. With the mild weather and plentiful sunlight that allowed pleasant working conditions, Katniss knew it wouldn't be long before the factory would be up and running. So far, she and Peeta had not been asked to make a public appearance or do interviews for its grand opening. And she was glad.

"This is a banner year for you, Mayor," Peeta had joked with Thom one evening a few weeks prior. "First getting married. Then opening a factory…"

Thom had laughed and admitted that he was indeed busy.

That was the night Leevy had invited Katniss and Peeta over for dinner. When the couple had married back in December, Leevy and her younger brother had moved into the mayor's more spacious house. Even though Thom had refused the Mayor's Mansion and had it converted into the local school, he still owned a large house near the Justice Building. Levan had protested, the fifteen-year-old wanting to stay in the tiny cottage right off the town square on his own. But Leevy wouldn't hear it. They finally compromised, though, Leevy agreeing to keep the smaller house so that Levan could move back into it once he finished school.

"Any thoughts on the occasion…?" Peeta had asked, his tone light. Thom looked at him for a moment, confused. "On the factory opening, I mean." Peeta clarified.

"Oh," Thom smiled in realization. "You mean whether there's going to be a ceremony or not?" He asked, his grin turning sly.

Katniss gave Peeta a hard look. Leevy busied herself by carrying dishes of food to the table.

"I was thinking something small," Thom said after a moment. "I'll say a few words, that sort of thing. Maybe have refreshments, if you're up for it…" He added.

"Refreshments?" Peeta grinned. "Of course I'm up for it, Mayor." He smiled in his easy way.

"Thom wants to keep everything simple." Leevy explained softly to Katniss. "Understated."

"Yeah, no big to-do," Thom spoke up, turning his gaze toward Katniss and Leevy. "It's hallowed ground, you know."

It took a moment for Katniss to understand. But when she did, she could have kissed Thom. Though he and Peeta had been speaking in half-jest, Katniss knew that the mayor was serious when he spoke to her. The coalmines had been the symbol of their district for hundreds of years. And though the land had been bulldozed over and crops grown, a factory built, that legacy wouldn't soon be forgotten. How many men had slaved away their lives in the dark confines of the earth? How many men had died in an accident or explosion down in those mines? Katniss thought about her handsome father with dark hair and gray eyes. He had taught her how to hunt, how to sing, but hadn't lived to see her grow up and get married. And she thought about the other men killed in that same explosion, such as Hazelle's husband. Gale's father. Thom had worked the mines alongside countless other men, and so he knew the sacrifice and toil associated with a life in the Seam. He was hard-working and determined, and the folks of District Twelve had chosen wisely when they had elected him mayor.

"There should be a memorial…" Katniss was caught off guard by her own words. Thom, Peeta, Leevy, and Levan all looked up at her in astonishment.

"A memorial, a plaque or statue or something…for the miners…" Katniss explained further.

The idea had sprung up in her mind when she thought about the years of labor, the thousands of men who had spent their lives in the mines. It was like the book of memories. There needed to be something there so the future residents of District Twelve wouldn't forget, wouldn't become complacent.

"That's a wonderful idea, Katniss," Thom said after a moment. "A memorial…" He said softer, as if to himself, and gazed off thoughtfully.

Peeta and Leevy also chimed in, agreeing with Katniss's idea.

"I'll make a few calls, see what I can do," Thom said brightly. "Would you be interested in designing it?" He asked. It took Katniss a few seconds to realize he was directing the question toward her.

"Oh yeah, I guess," she said hesitantly. As a Victor, she had chosen design as the hobby to fill her time. But that had been a ruse. The fashion designs had all been Cinna's. She looked at Peeta, her eyes wide.

"I can help," he offered, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "I can draw up some sketches…"

And so there was going to be a memorial for the coalminers, for District 12. Peeta had drawn out several ideas, from statues with men ready for a day's work, their hard hats and head lamps on, pick axes in hand, to more simple designs with detailed inscriptions. Katniss had finally chosen one – once she got the go ahead from the Mayor – that was understated, yet commanding. Peeta had sent his sketches to a sculptor in the Capitol, and Katniss had made several phone calls over the past few weeks to ensure that it would be ready in time for the factory opening.

And while Peeta was at the Capitol getting fit for his new artificial limb, he was going to check on the memorial's progress.

Katniss let out a sigh and allowed herself a little smile as she watched the crews work tirelessly on the factory. This June had been the coolest in years, and so she pulled her knees up to her chest where she sat near the field, wrapping her arms around her legs. She reached up one hand reflexively to where the pearl rested underneath her shirt and felt its perfect roundness there. Peeta's absence was tangible, and her mind wandered to what he was doing at that same moment, hundreds of miles away. The smile that passed across her lips was bittersweet. She was glad to have her idea for the memorial come to fruition. But at the same time, her heart ached for those that had been lost. Her father, Gale's father, all those that had perished in the firebombing. Prim. There were too many people who would never get to see the country grow and move beyond the horror of the games and the rebellion.

She laughed softly to herself when she thought about how her life had turned out. At twelve or fourteen or even sixteen years old, she would have never been able to predict that here she would be – at twenty-five – happily married and watching the district being rebuilt after a war.

She stood and stretched her legs sometime later, the summer sun still high in the sky despite the progress into evening. Some of the crews were breaking for the day, and Katniss caught sight of some familiar faces. She waved to those she recognized before turning back down the lane. She heard hurried footsteps behind her, though, and turned.

"Hey Katniss," Levan slowed down and greeted her. He was wearing a painter's smock and had a hat on his head.

"Hi Levan," Katniss smiled at the young boy. "You done for the day?" She asked.

Despite being merely fifteen years old, Levan had signed up to work on the factory during his summer vacation. He earned a little bit of money, which he was saving for the day he moved out on his own. Soft-spoken Leevy was proud of her younger brother, and Katniss admired his hard work. Now that she was older, it felt almost surreal that she had been out in the woods hunting to provide for her family at such a young age. But growing up in the Seam never did allow much of a childhood.

"Yeah, I'm off." Levan smiled, pulling off his cap. "I'll walk you back to town," he offered and fell into step easily alongside Katniss.

He was growing taller by the minute, Katniss guessed, as each time she saw him he had sprouted up another inch or so. He was already taller than she was, and Leevy. He had dark hair that he'd let grow long and the same gray eyes as most of the district. But he had not inherited any of Leevy's shyness, and was quick to smile and rather talkative, unless he was in one of his moods. Katniss was sure that the girls at school had started to take notice of him, and she could have laughed to remember when he had been a mere toddler, sick with the measles.

"When does Peeta get back?" Levan asked. Katniss thought for a moment before replying.

"The day after tomorrow," Katniss smiled.

"I bet you miss him. It's been what, six years, seven years now?" Levan asked, and Katniss wasn't quite sure what he meant. She supposed he was referring to their marriage, though.

"Six years." Katniss responded, her voice coming out softer than she had intended.

She thought about their anniversary just a few weeks back. She had cooked a hearty meal of roast duck and wild greens, and Peeta had baked a smaller version of their wedding cake, complete with soft green frosting. But the entire evening, he had eyed her more hungrily than the sweet treat, and so dessert was forgotten over lingering kisses and tender caresses. Katniss felt her cheeks grow pink at the thought.

Levan let out a laugh and his boyish good looks reminded Katniss not of another dark-haired, gray-eyed boy she had once known, but of Peeta. Gale was handsome, there was no doubt about that, but there had always been something hard and dark about him. There had been no ebullient joy, no cheerful laughter. Peeta had known hardships, had known heartache, and yet was still able to meet the world with a smile and a kind word. Katniss felt the ache in her chest return to think of him, her husband, so far away.

Levan chattered on about the progress on the factory during the rest of the trek to town. Katniss listened politely and expressed interest where need be, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She didn't suppose the boy would notice, but when he stopped short and grew quiet, she looked up and his gray eyes met hers.

"I'm over here," Levan said, and Katniss realized that she had completely passed up the mayor's house and was headed toward the other end of town. She shook her head and smiled weakly.

"You really do miss him…" Levan spoke up once Katniss had caught back up with him. She met his gaze and knew he could see it written all over her face.

"Why didn't you just go with him?" He asked as they neared the large house.

"Well, when I came back here," Katniss started, trying to think of the proper way to explain things. Levan had been nine, maybe even eight when she had assassinated Coin, been tried, and then sent back to Twelve on one term – that she was banned from ever traveling outside the district. She wasn't sure how much he caught from newscasts or how much Leevy had told him.

"When I was _sent_ back here," she corrected herself. "It was on one condition." Levan's eyes had widened in curiosity.

"That I could never leave the district." She finished as they arrived at the front door of Thom and Leevy's. Levan had stopped though, and was looking at Katniss in disbelief.

"What…?" Levan asked just as Leevy opened the door. She must have seen them walking up the lane to the house.

"Hi Katniss," Leevy greeted her warmly, though there was a look of surprise on her face.

"That's just _wrong_…" Levan remarked, not even bothering to greet his sister, who stood in the doorway looking quit confused.

"Hi Leevy," Katniss muttered, feeling a tad guilty that she had spilled her problems to Levan. The fifteen-year-old looked quite outraged at the whole situation.

"What's wrong?" Leevy asked, addressing Levan. It was only then that her brother turned to look at her.

"That Katniss can't leave the district." He explained. "She's stuck here. It's just wrong. There's got to be something we can do about it…"

"Why don't you talk to Thom about that…" Leevy managed, leaning down from the top step to place her hands gently onto Levan's shoulders and turn him toward the house. He didn't protest, but quickly agreed, bounding up the steps and through the front door.

"Sorry about that…" Katniss apologized and offered her an awkward smile. She could have tried to explain the situation, but instead she let the smile slide from her features and was about to leave when Leevy spoke up.

"It's alright," Leevy replied softly. She let out a soft breath that could have been a laugh. Katniss wasn't sure. But Leevy's face broke out into a smile, and Katniss felt relief.

"He gets like that sometimes," Leevy continued. "All fired up…"

And Katniss could have told Leevy that she knew a boy like that once. A boy from the Seam with the same dark hair and gray eyes who wouldn't back down from a challenge. Who believed there was something bigger out there to fight for. And suddenly she realized that Levan, with his Seam look and easy smiles, friendly demeanor and passion for a cause was like _two_ boys she had once known. One who had been too similar to her for his own good. And the other who ended up the perfect balance to her fiery nature. She smiled to think that maybe, one day, when Peeta finally convinced her to have a child, she would want him – or her – to be like that, a perfect equilibrium of their best attributes.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Leevy asked and the question pulled Katniss from her thoughts. She smiled for a moment before replying.

"Thanks, but I can't," She gave Leevy an apologetic smile. "I'm expecting a phone call from Peeta tonight."

Katniss could feel the almost comical grin spread across her features at the thought of hearing Peeta's voice. He had dutifully called her every night since his departure, and she would listen intently while he described his day, holding on to each word like a precious gift. And as she would lie in bed at night, she could almost imagine that he was there beside her, whispering "I love you."

"Another time, then?" Leevy called out after Katniss as she waved farewell.

"Sure," Katniss responded. "When Peeta gets back." She added, then turned to make her way back to the Victor's Village.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Okay, okay, I apologize for the delay on this chapter! It took me a while to write, and I've been a little more busy lately. So sorry. And I'm glad everyone liked the last chapter. Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews. Really, I can't say that enough. You guys are an amazing audience. So please keep reading!

Anyway, to explain some things, the first three chapters revolved around Katniss being 25 or so. This chapter jumps three years into the future and now Katniss is 28. Instead of being strictly linear like Young Blood is, I've worked out this story to focus on different time periods in Katniss and Peeta's lives in three-chapter blocks. So chapters 1, 2, and 3 are Katniss at ~25, chapters 4, 5, 6 will be her at 28, and so on. For now, I'm thinking this story will most likely be 9-12 chapters total, but that's not set in stone, so we'll see!

And I'm posting this chapter rather quickly after I finished it, so I am SO sorry for any grammar mistakes or whatnot. It's late, but I don't want to keep you guys waiting. So please read and review! I love hearing from everyone, what you liked, what you didn't like, etc.

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"Leevy's pregnant." Katniss told Peeta one evening. His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to speak.

"But don't go spreading it around town," she warned. Probably unjustly though, since it was usually the townsfolk that spread rumors and gossip that Peeta picked up and brought home and not the other way around. Still, Leevy had only told a handful of people, Katniss included.

"It's still really early, so…" Katniss explained.

Thom and Leevy had been married thre years now, and had patiently waited until Levan had finished school and moved out before they started a family. Levan was eighteen and had a full-time job at the factory, where he'd worked part-time during summer breaks and holidays for the past three years. Leevy had invited Katiss over on that warm spring afternoon for tea, which was all prim and proper and befitting a mayor's wife. And over scones from the bakery and tea that scalded Katniss's lips, Leevy had revealed her secret.

"I'm pregnant," Leevy had spoken softly, a shy smile unfolding across her features.

Katniss, in the midst of a sip of the too-hot tea, sputtered and choked on the liquid, and nearly dropped the delicate cup. Leevy giggled as Katniss composed herself, taking a napkin that was offered and setting her cup and saucer down safely on the coffee table.

"Sorry, you surprised me," Katniss said, letting out a chuckle. She saw the expectant look on Leevy's face. "Congratulations!" She added with a grin.

If it had been Anabel, Katniss would have leaned in for an enthusiastic hug. But the only time quiet, reserved Leevy had embraced Katniss had been on the day she married Thom. If it had been Anabel as well, the talkative woman would have carried on the conversation with minimal input from Katniss. But Leevy just thanked Katniss and sipped on her tea. Katniss picked up the scone she had been eyeing and took a small bite.

"I bet Thom's excited," Katniss said after the silence began to drag and become awkward. Leevy lit up at the mention of her husband.

"Oh yes, he's thrilled," Leevy replied brightly.

"How far along are you?" Katniss asked, trying to think of things Anabel had said when she announced her pregnancies. She didn't want to seem too intrusive, but Leevy showed no outward signs that she was with child.

"About eight weeks," Leevy answered. "It's still early, so I don't want to announce it quite yet. Only you, Thom, and Levan know," she explained.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," Katniss replied.

"Oh, you can tell Peeta," Leevy added quickly. "I just don't want the whole district to know yet." She let out a soft laugh. As the mayor's wife, Katniss was sure Leevy knew how rapidly rumors could spread among the townsfolk.

"If it were up to Thom, he'd announce it from the steps of the Justice Building," Leevy declared with a louder laugh. Katniss added in a chuckle of her own.

"How does Levan feel about being an uncle?" Katniss thought of the eighteen-year-old being out on his own now.

The boy had been all Leevy had left to cling to after the district was bombed, and she had become fiercely protective of her only living relative, even after marrying Thom. Levan had moved back into their old cottage nearly a month ago, Katniss and Peeta helping carry boxes and furniture. Katniss knew that it was probably weighing heavily on Leevy, to no longer have him under the same roof.

"He's almost more excited than Thom is," Leevy's laughter had died out but she did offer up a smile.

Katniss knew she would tell Peeta. If she didn't tell him about Leevy's pregnancy and he found out through someone else, he'd have quite a bit more to say than if she just told him herself. And she truly was happy for the couple. But as the years ticked by and their friends were having children, it became a topic of conversation more often in the Mellark household – _if_ two people could constitute a household. Marc and Anabel had just had their third child, a little girl named Minnie, six months earlier. Rye was nine and Addie was three, and both loved their "Uncle" Peeta. Rye was a cheerful and inquisitive boy, and wanted to grow up to be a baker just like his father and Peeta. Addie was nearly a carbon copy of her mother in appearance, the same blue eyes and brown hair, but had Marc's quiet, straightforward nature. Who Minnie would favor was yet to be determined. Peeta doted on the three children as if they were his own, Anabel teasing him playfully that he was spoiling them and that he should wait until he had a brood for himself. She would laugh nervously when Katniss would set her jaw and scowl, but then Peeta would explain that he wasn't ready to have kids. It was a lie, but Anabel would giggle and assure him that he was still young. That there was still plenty of time.

And so on that beautiful spring day, Katniss had to get up the nerve to tell Peeta that Leevy was pregnant. It was different when it was just Marc and Anabel having children. That was one couple, one family. Edda and Theo were in their late thirties now and weren't planning on ever having children, as far as Katniss could tell. But Leevy was Katniss's age, and had only been married for three years. And the couple had planned on waiting until Levan moved out, so her pregnancy was perfectly timed. But Katniss and Peeta would be celebrating their ninth wedding anniversary in a few weeks time, and Katniss had no concrete excuse for waiting.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of telling Peeta about their friend. She knew his face would light up with surprise and then joy. He'd be thrilled for the couple, just as everyone in the district would be, once the mayor decided to make the news public. But there would be something else behind Peeta's gaze. Something else would sparkle beneath those bright blue eyes.

When he first started broaching the subject, she had simply shut him down with a glare and short, clipped words. Sometimes he would mention children as a jest, and she would raise an eyebrow before rolling her eyes. However, she knew there was always _some_ truth behind his words. Other times, they would have serious conversations. Katniss had stood her ground in the beginning, explaining how she never imagined bringing life into a world where it could be forfeited so easily for entertainment. Or at least that's how the conversations had played in her head. Out loud, Peeta would ask, his words gentle at first, and she would attempt an explanation. But when he pressed her, she would makes noises of exasperation and either end up yelling at him or become closed-off and quiet.

Her answer had been "no" on the subject of children early on. But then it slowly became a matter of when and not if. He would smile slyly when their conversations had turned in that direction, and she would shake her head at him and smile as well. He left the matter alone for some time after that, and she was relieved. But with Addie's birth and Thom and Leevy's marriage, the gentle questioning began again. Now, with Leevy pregnant, Katniss was sure it would just add fuel to the fire.

"But don't go spreading it around town. It's still really early, so…" Katniss told him that evening, more of as a way to stall him from turning the conversation onto their own childless state. Peeta had shut his mouth, which had been hanging slightly agape, at the warning.

"Oh glad you told me not to say anything," Peeta started. "Because I was already planning on changing the sign from 'Mellark Bakery' to 'Leevy is pregnant.'" He finished sarcastically and laughed.

Katniss frowned and stood up from her stool – after nine years she still preferred eating at the kitchen counter on a stool to sitting at the table, unless they had company. She covered her half-eaten plate of food and set it in the refrigerator. Peeta was still working on his dinner. She kept her back to him as she cleaned up.

"But really, that's great news." Peeta said brightly between bites. Katniss offered him a hint of smile. She knew she shouldn't act so sullen, but she was dreading the dialogue to come.

"I bet Thom is excited. I mean, who wouldn't be?" Peeta mused and Katniss felt a pang of guilt deep within her. Katniss made a noise that indicated she agreed, but didn't say anything else.

Peeta finished his dinner in relative silence, making a few comments here and there. Katniss continued to dawdle about the kitchen after she had cleaned up the few dirty dishes, pretending to be busy. Peeta came to join her by the sink a short while later, dropping his plate into the soapy water and resting his strong hands on her waist. She paused at his touch and he leaned close, his chest pressing against her back.

"Katniss…." He breathed her name, then let out a long sigh. "What's wrong?"

She tensed, and she knew he felt it. Then she moved to clean his dish, plunging her hands into the warm water. He stepped back slightly to let her maneuver toward the sink, but he kept his hands in place on her waist.

"Katniss…" He spoke again, his voice pleading but firm.

She turned then, and it caught him off guard. She leaned back against the counter, her hands beside her. Peeta stood a few feet away, and Katniss could tell he was on the verge of saying something. But he kept his mouth closed and waited for her to speak.

"It's the pregnancy," she said finally, closing her eyes for a second to compose herself. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "It's _everything_," she added.

Peeta narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment and Katniss knew he understood what she was implying. There had been no look of confusion. No attempt to correct her or deny anything. She felt the weight of her guilt suffocating her. He deserved better – Haymitch had told her that hundreds of times. Peeta deserved to have a family, to have children. But she didn't know if she could give him that. What if her grief crippled her? What would happen if she brought a tiny, crying infant into the world and couldn't even care for it? What if something happened to Peeta and she was left alone to care for a baby? The nightmarish scenarios were endless, and some days they invaded her thoughts until she would crawl into the hall closet and hide, just as she had done all those years ago in Thirteen.

She felt very much like sliding past him and crawling into the closet right then, but his hands found hers and their warmth nearly startled her out of her thoughts.

"So you think I'm going to pressure you into having a baby because Leevy's pregnant…?" Peeta asked, tilting his head to catch her gaze. She tried to pull her eyes away, but he shifted his head so that her gray eyes locked with his blue ones.

What could she say? He had said exactly what she had been thinking, what she had been dreading ever since Leevy had revealed her secret earlier that afternoon. So she stayed quiet.

"I know I say things," he admitted. "I know I make comments about having children when I hear about something Rye has done, or get to hold Minnie…"

It took all of her will power to look him in the eye when all Katniss wanted to do was stare at the floor. His voice was calm, but there was a firm tone underlying his words. She knew he spoke in earnest, and so she kept her gaze on his, even though all she wanted to do was retreat to the bedroom. She was suddenly aware of the kitchen counter pressing painfully into her low back, but she was afraid that if she moved, he would take it as a sign of flight.

"I want to have a family with you, Katniss…" He spoke softly, almost as a whisper. He bent his head close to hers and she could feel his breath on her cheek. He squeezed her hands in a comforting manner.

"But when _you_ are ready," he added, intensity in his voice.

His face was so close that she could see every tiny freckle that dusted his cheeks and nose. Every pink and white line that marked out where he had been burned. Every facet of color that made up his impossibly blue eyes. She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Her eyes darted away from his for half a second, but when she met his gaze again, there was something else smoldering beneath the surface. She recognized what was behind his stare, and she felt the corners of her mouth curve into a hint of smile, her eyes widening in expectation. And with all the intensity that had been in his voice, Peeta quickly pressed his lips to hers, his hands resting solidly on her shoulders. Katniss kissed him back with fervor, with the relief she felt calming her and allowing her to focus on the feel of his body against hers.

So they made their way upstairs with lingering kisses and careful caresses, discarding items of clothing as they went. Katniss fell down on the bed in one joyous movement, Peeta deftly ridding her of her undergarments. On a different night, she would have giggled, and perhaps even made a move to cover herself in mock modesty. But her worries had been too real for such playfulness, so instead she lost herself in the physicality of it all – the feel of his lips against her mouth, her cheeks, her neck. He raked them along her collarbone, trailing heated kisses down her chest and stomach. He lingered at the curve of her hip, his mouth pressed against the sensitive spot causing her to gasp and curl her fingers into his hair. He moved even lower then, and she was lost to a world of pleasure.

After, his fingers swirled patterns along her arm as he held her close. They were silent for a long while, and if it weren't for the movement of his hands, she could have thought him asleep. She tried to clear her thoughts and drift off to sleep, but they still plagued her, though they were less worrisome than before.

"I'm happy for Leevy," she said in a light tone, thinking back to dinner when she had been so quiet and sullen.

"I'm glad," Peeta said, sounding drowsy. He had stayed his hands and she smiled to think that he was half-asleep when she was suddenly wide-awake.

She wanted to tell him that she was scared. She wanted to explain her thoughts, her fears. She wanted to have his children, to bring him every joy in life, yet it seemed a colossal task. Bringing new life into the world was hard to grasp for someone who had grown up poor and hungry. It was hard to grasp for someone who had seen children slowly succumb to starvation and illnesses that a hale child would have bounced back from. Especially in a world where those children were used for sport. And even thought the games had been abolished, even though the district was thriving, there was no way to be certain that those children would grow up healthy and happy.

But Peeta's breathing had become slow and shallow, so she kept her thoughts to herself. She knew the conversation would have to happen sooner or later, but for then she was content. She realized she was undeniably lucky to have someone who understood her as well as Peeta did. Someone loving and patient enough to wait until she was ready, whether it was six months or six years. And as the hours crept by and she still found herself awake, she began to think of other things. She smiled to think of Leevy growing round with child, and whom the child would favor. She prayed silently for Leevy to have an easy pregnancy and delivery.

Another thought took hold of her as Katniss finally began to drift off to sleep, Peeta breathing heavily beside her. She had been taking the little blue pills for nine, ten years now, at first supplied by Dr. Aurelius and now acquired from the apothecary shop in town. After their first argument over birth control, Peeta had not mentioned it again, and Katniss took the pills every morning like clockwork. But what if that variable no longer existed? What if it was eliminated and she just left it up to whatever power or fate that controlled the course of things? She wouldn't tell Peeta. Only if something _did_ happen.

She figured it was a step, and a step in the direction he wanted to head. She turned and found him in the dark, pressing her lips gently to his. He didn't stir, and so she curled into his warmth and closed her eyes. A smile played on her lips as sleep finally claimed her, and for once she felt excitement, more than fear, at what lay ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** It seems like each successive chapter takes me longer to write! I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter is really important for the story, I think. I've had the idea for this part ever since I decided to write a sequel to Young Blood. Just a warning: things aren't always perfect! Even for our favorite characters.

Anyway, thank you all for continuing to read. I really do love these characters, and am so thankful to have such an awesome audience that enjoys my take on things. Anyway, please read and review! And thanks to those who have already done so and continue to do so!

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She was dreaming of the ocean. The swell of waves and the thunderous sound of them breaking on shore. She'd only been to the ocean once, briefly, on their stop in District Four during the tumultuous Victory Tour. The crowd there had not been on the verge of an uprising, but had actually shown genuine elation to see the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. After their ceremony in front of that district's Justice Building and dinner, Katniss and Peeta had slipped off down to the shore. Two Peacekeepers had followed them at a distance, but didn't stop the two as they discarded their shoes and trudged through the sand.

She'd seen the ocean before, rushing through that district to and from the Capitol on her way to the games. She had seen the expansive body of water again on her way to the Quarter Quell, but her emotions had been so dark that she hardly enjoyed the sight. But now she was dreaming of the ocean, and she wondered if she would have had the same dream had she never set eyes on it.

It had been dark when she and Peeta had retreated from Effie in the pretense of going to bed. The ocean rolled out in black waves, clouds obscuring most of the stars. The moon had peaked out, though, and gave them enough light to safely make their way to the beach. The sand had been cool on her bare feet, but Peeta had struggled slightly, his prosthetic leg sinking into the soft ground. She had extended her hand to him and he took it gladly, his smile bright in the moonlight. The ocean had been cold on her bare legs, but she didn't squeal. She let the waves break against her ankles, then waded deeper, holding the skirt of one of Cinna's creations high. Peeta had stood farther up on the beach, the waves barely touching his feet. Well, his artificial limb and foot. He watched her, and the two Peacekeepers that waited a dozen yards away did the same, though without a smile.

Katniss had walked out farther into the ocean, her skirt becoming soaked. She didn't mind, though. The cold water and wind in her hair was invigorating, and she might never get the chance to see the ocean again. How right she had been, though she couldn't have known at the time. The waves came up to her thighs, then her waist, until it was difficult to walk. She tasted salt. Peeta called her name as she sank purposefully down into the water, but went quiet when she resurfaced. She lay on her back, her skirt fanning out around her legs, and floated for a while, her arms outstretched.

"Katniss Everdeen!" She heard her name clearly over the sound of the waves, and looked up to see Effie Trinket struggling through the sand in four-inch heels.

"You get out of there this instant! We have to go!" Effie called out in her lilting Capitol accent.

"Come on, Effie, when is she ever going to have the chance to swim in the ocean?" Peeta asked, defending Katniss.

"I do _not_ care," Effie said sounding furious. "I have been looking all over for you two. It's time to go!" Effie ordered.

Katniss relented and waded toward shore, her wet skirt clinging to her legs and slowing her down. She made it to the beach as waves crashed around her. She stumbled a bit, her hands reaching out reflexively to catch herself, but Peeta was there, his arm holding hers tight. She glanced up at him, the wind blowing wet strands of hair around her face, and he grinned slyly at her. If Effie and the two Peacekeepers had not been there, she might have kissed him. Not for show in front of expectant throngs, but because she had swam in the ocean for the first time. Because the moonlight on his face seemed to cast a spell on her. Because the night air was chilly and the wind cold and his warmth would have been welcome.

And she knew that even though Peeta had not been far into the ocean, the kiss would have tasted like salt.

"You're going to freeze to death!" Effie had proclaimed angrily as they trudged back up the sand dunes and toward the building that loomed ahead.

Effie had ordered her to change before they departed for the train station, and so she and Peeta had to briefly separate. Effie had then burst into her room a few moments later, two Peacekeepers following closely behind. Katniss had changed and was towel-drying her hair when Effie tugged at her arm.

"We have to go, _now_," she said and pulled Katniss after her. The wet clothes, a beautiful cotton skirt and sweater, were left behind.

And though she had only spent a few minutes in the ocean, along with the salt water of the second arena, she dreamt of sand and waves that night, years later. She dreamt that she was floating in the warm water, the rolling swell rocking her like a newborn cradled in its mother's arms.

She woke suddenly that cool fall morning, the sound of the ocean lingering in her thoughts. Peeta was sleeping soundlessly beside her and didn't move when she sat up in bed.

Her memories of the ocean from her brief visit to District Four filled her mind, and parts were hazy, such that she couldn't quite tell dream from reality. But what she did know was why she had dreamed of the ocean. She was pregnant.

Katniss had stopped taking the little blue pills back when Leevy revealed she was pregnant. That had been in late May, and now Leevy was in her seventh month, her belly growing rounder by the minute. Leevy was due sometime in early December, and Katniss knew she and Thom were looking forward to the arrival of their child.

Katniss had yet to tell Peeta about the birth control. Since their conversation in the spring, he hadn't broached the subject of children again. At least the subject of _their_ children. With Marc and Anabel's three children and Thom and Leevy's on the way, the topic invariably came up on a regular basis. Peeta would come home from the bakery and tell Katniss some humorous story about Rye or Addie or Minnie, or Katniss would have some news to report about Leevy. But Peeta would grow quiet for a moment, and the unspoken thoughts about their own childless state would hang almost tangible in between them. Then Peeta would change topics with a bright smile and a lighthearted laugh.

Of course there had been other arguments. June had been their ninth wedding anniversary, and Peeta had wanted to do something special. But Katniss's outward apathy had frustrated him.

"We've had a quiet evening at home for eight years," she explained finally. "Dinner, cake..."

"Exactly!" Peeta retorted. "We have done the same thing all these years, so I wanted to do something different for once."

She just didn't quite understand why the routine had to change. Katniss was happy with spending most of her days in the wilderness hunting or trapping or gathering, while Peeta worked at the bakery. She saw Leevy once every few weeks for tea or dinner or to accompany her friend to the town healer for a check-up. In the spring and summer, Katniss and Peeta would spend his days off at the lake swimming and fishing and picking berries. Other days, Peeta would sketch or paint or work on things for the bakery. There had been a big party for the tenth anniversary of the bakery's opening, so why make elaborate plans for their wedding anniversary? Katniss and Peeta had Haymitch over for dinner as often as the surly older man would show up, and Greasy Sae still walked to the Victor's Village every few months to cook them dinner. Marc and Anabel, along with their growing brood, and Edda and Theo would have dinner together at least once a month, and they took turns hosting and cooking. But with Katniss and Peeta owning the largest house of the three couples, it frequently fell to them to have everyone over.

And while Katniss enjoyed spending time with her friends, it did grow tiresome, her solitary nature being strained on such a regular occasion. Peeta was an extrovert, on the other hand, and loved being around others. So he had wanted to host a party and invite half the town for their anniversary – or at least that's what Katniss figured. They had argued until Katniss couldn't talk anymore. She had grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows and spent the rest of the evening in the woods. In her anger, she had missed a rabbit, and came very close to snapping an arrow in half in her rage. Instead, she stomped all the way back to the Victor's Village to find Peeta still sitting at the kitchen counter where she had left him. He had stared at her, wide-eyed, when she crashed in the back door, her braid lashing around her shoulders with her forceful movements, the look on her face dark and wild. She had thrown her bow and arrows down in a heap and closed the distance between them.

"You want something special for our anniversary?" She had whispered fiercely, her face only inches from his.

And before he could open his mouth to speak, she had slammed her lips against his, all of the anger she felt turning into bitter passion. She bit at his lip and grabbed his arms, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. She kissed him as if she meant to consume him, and then tore at his clothes. They made love, savage and desperate, right there in the kitchen. Peeta had to go to work for the next few days with purple bruises and bite marks on his arms and neck.

After that, they had both agreed to spend a quiet evening at home for their ninth wedding anniversary and plan something different to celebrate their tenth.

They had argued about Katniss getting a job at the factory. The idea had sprung up while spending time with Leevy. The mayor's wife had been talking about Levan, who at eighteen enjoyed working fulltime at the factory and living on his own. She mentioned that the management team was looking for someone to work part-time and keep the books. Most of the townsfolk that were vying for jobs needed to work fulltime, and so it was hard to find someone to do the work for such minimal pay. After Leevy mentioned the position a few times, Katniss suddenly offered to help. But Peeta didn't like the idea at all.

"You really want to do that…?" He had asked incredulously one evening in late summer. Katniss had gone with Leevy to the town healer that day and they had spoken about the job.

"You really want to work part-time in the factory?" He asked again. Katniss had set her jaw and folded her arms across her chest.

"Is that so hard to believe?" She retorted angrily.

She thought about the factory, and its grand opening three years prior. She had enjoyed helping design the memorial that now sat outside the large building. On some days, days that she finished hunting early in the day or didn't hunt at all, she would walk through town and past the fields and factory. The large marble block stood twenty yards from the main entrance, its appearance regal. The main portion of the statue was a simple rectangle of the dark rock, a bronze plague covering one side. Inscribed there was a brief history of District Twelve, its coalmining and mention of the firebombing and those who were lost in the rebellion – though there wasn't enough room to list all by name. On one of the corners of the memorial, a miner's hat with its headlamp was carved, every detail perfect, as if some worker had casually propped his hat on the stone. A pickaxe was also carved on top, lying as if it had just been set down for a moment. Katniss would read the words over and over, their simplicity and straightforwardness beautifully bittersweet. She had designed the memorial, but she had Peeta to thank for the eloquent words.

On those days that she would walk to the edge of town, she would often catch Levan on his way home from his shift at the factory. He would walk her back home, chatting on about his work or new products being introduced or the other townsfolk that worked on his shift. It had started with Levan just accompanying Katniss as far as his tiny cottage near the square, but it progressed such that he now walked all the way to the Victor's Village with her. When she had first protested, he assured her that he needed to stretch his legs after a long day at the factory, and the extra half a mile walk wouldn't be a problem. So Katniss had acquiesced. She didn't mind making the short trek alone, but if Levan insisted...She had watched him grow from a precocious nine-year-old to a moody teenager and now to a handsome young man just out of school. When she touched on the subject of girls – which wasn't often – he would look away quickly, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, and answer something vague. His personality reminded her so much of Peeta, and she liked to think Levan was the Seam equivalent. As of late, they spoke of Leevy and her pregnancy. Levan seemed as giddy as Peeta was when talking about children.

"He has something of a crush on you…" Leevy told her one day in late summer, shortly after Katniss and Peeta had argued about the part-time job.

"What?" Katniss had been shocked. "I'm ten years older than he is." Leevy had just smiled knowingly.

"He talks about you quite a bit," Leevy had said after an awkward pause. "And he is always excited to see you…"

It took Katniss a moment to realize that the usually reserved Leevy was teasing her. Leevy was right, her brother _did_ have a crush on Katniss – all of the walks home from the factory, the way he looked at her – it all confirmed what Leevy had said. But it was quite harmless, or else Leevy would have not made light of the situation. Levan admired Peeta, and knew that whatever feelings he had for Katniss paled in comparison to the love she shared with Peeta. He was embarrassed by it all, according to Leevy. Still, Katniss was more mindful of how she acted around the boy, and didn't walk to the edge of town quite as much anymore.

It took her several days to get up the nerve to tell Peeta about the crush. Peeta just laughed good-naturedly about the matter.

"I suspected as much," Peeta said with a chuckle. "I've seen the way that boy makes moon eyes at you. Looks a lot like the way I used to look at you…" With anyone else, Katniss might have been mad, but she couldn't help but smile at Peeta.

They agreed, though, that she wouldn't take the part-time job at the factory.

A few weeks later, she missed her monthly cycle.

It could have been a fluke, though, but when the next month came without her normal flow, she knew it wasn't just coincidence. There had been days where her stomach would protest, and she would have to run to the bathroom or behind the nearest bush to throw up. When her stomach was empty, there were awful dry heaves. At first, she had blamed some leftovers she had eaten. But Peeta had consumed the same food and was fine. She knew the true answer when she finally put missing her cycles and being sick together. And the dream about floating in the ocean, the waves gently rocking her on that cool fall morning had only served to strengthen her suspicion. When her mother had been pregnant with Prim, she had had odd dreams as well. Dreams about crawling through the deep underbelly of the earth, through mineshafts, though she had only been in the mines as a child on school trips.

Katniss calculated the days and weeks in her head as she headed out to the woods that day. She figured she was about eight weeks along, but was determined that she wouldn't get her hopes up until she visited the town apothecary's shop and bought a pregnancy test. So she kept the change she felt in her body a secret, kept the knowledge of new life in the place she had kept Prim and the pearl all those years ago.

She pondered for days how she would manage to visit the apothecary's shop in town without everyone finding out just what she had purchased. From the ten years Peeta had owned the bakery, she knew that gossip and rumors spread like wildfire among the denizens of the district. What if someone saw her buying the pregnancy test and it got back to Peeta before she could even tell him the happy news? She knew that the shop owner, who had only been in town for the past two years, was a stickler for customer confidentiality. But that didn't guarantee that someone else wouldn't talk.

Katniss finally broke down and made a trip to town one day. She had yet to say anything to Peeta. As much as it ached to keep it to herself, she knew that Peeta's heart would be full to bursting once he knew. And she knew that not all pregnancies made it to term, the riskiest times being in the first twelve weeks. So she didn't want Peeta to be elated, then disappointed.

And truthfully, she was scared. The thought of bringing new life into the world frightened her, made all of the insecurities she tried to hide come to the surface. What if something happened and she shut down like her mother had? What if another war broke out and there was turmoil in the nation? There were no more Hunger Games, but she was sure humankind could think up other atrocities. But it was too late now, if in fact she was pregnant.

So Katniss went to the apothecary's shop one fall morning, keeping a casual air about her trip. She strolled through the shelves nonchalantly until the few other customers left and she was alone. She picked up the home pregnancy test, along with a few other herbs and supplements, and headed to the cashier. The man behind the counter gave her a friendly smile, but made no comments about her products. Her heart hammered in her chest to think that someone she or Peeta knew could walk in any minute and see exactly what was lying on the counter, but she kept a placid smile on her face as she handed over the money. She wanted to run out of the shop and back to the Victor's Village when the man handed her the bag and her change, but she willed herself to walk slowly, nodding and waving to those she recognized out that morning.

In the upstairs bathroom, she opened the small package and carefully read the instructions. She followed all the directions and set the small plastic stick on the edge of the sink, waiting for the results to show. The minutes passed slowly, almost agonizingly so, before a little white area began to change. Katniss felt her heart beat up into her throat just as it had done earlier in town, and she felt her stomach lurch when she read the test.

She was indeed pregnant.

She felt sick, and the contents of her stomach welled up in her throat. She leaned over the toilet, pregnancy test still in hand, and rid herself of lunch.

That afternoon, she made a phone call to her mother.

"Katniss, that's wonderful news!" The woman cried out in joy. Katniss let out a small laugh.

"To think, I'm finally going to be a grandmother…" She said, a thoughtful tone in her voice.

Truthfully, the older woman had long ago adopted Annie Cresta as something of a daughter, and so Finn was a surrogate grandson. Katniss remembered how her heart had clenched painfully when her mother had told her Finn had started calling her "Maymay."

"How far along are you?" She asked quickly.

"I don't really know, but probably eight or nine weeks, if my math is correct," Katniss explained.

"And it's late October now…" Her mother said. Katniss could tell the healer part of her was doing the calculation in her head. She watched her mother with expectant women, questioning them about their last missed cycle and estimating their due dates.

"So you should be due early June." The older woman finished.

"Yeah," Katniss agreed. That was the month she had come up with by her best guess. "Maybe it'll be born right around our tenth wedding anniversary."

"Have you told Peeta yet?" Her mother asked.

Peeta came in late from the bakery that night, the sky dark and full of stars. He sighed as he walked in through the back door, hanging his lightweight coat on its usual hook. Katniss had been awaiting his arrival eagerly, but also nervously. She knew he would be excited, but would her reservation about the pregnancy seem cold and unfeeling? She took a deep breath and marched into the kitchen, Peeta looking up at her with a smile as he unlaced his shoes.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out as he had opened his mouth to speak. His mouth hung even more agape, and his eyes widened in surprise as the weight of her words hit him.

"You're pregnant…?" He asked slowly, straightening up from where he had stepped out of his shoes. She nodded quickly, a shy smile playing on her lips.

With a loud whoop, Peeta's expression broke out into a wide grin and he closed the distance between them. He laughed heartily as he wrapped his strong arms around her, lifting her off the ground in a tight embrace. She pressed her face into his neck and let out a soft laugh as well. She felt dizzy when he set her down and she grabbed him to steady herself.

"You're pregnant!" He exclaimed, his hands holding her arms. He bent and placed a firm kiss on her mouth, and then another and another until they nearly forgot about dinner.

Peeta had a wide grin plastered on his face throughout the entire meal, glancing her way every few seconds. She explained how she had stopped taking the birth control back in late May, on purpose, when he asked. He laughed mirthfully and kissed her again, his lips tasting of salt and meat.

"Can we please wait to tell everyone?" Katniss asked finally. Peeta had acted like a child on holiday for the past few hours, and she could just picture him bursting into the bakery the next day, telling all who walked in about the good news.

"Just because it's so early," she added when Peeta looked confused. "I've only told you…and my mom."

"Sure," he agreed, shoveling in another mouthful of food. "Ah, I'm just _so_ happy."

And it was all so surreal, like some kind of dream. Peeta floated to work each morning, after she told him, and was more attentive to her every need. Katniss would have felt a bit overwhelmed, if it at all seemed real.

And then she woke from the dream.

It was about a week after she told Peeta, a week and a half since she had first dreamt of the ocean. She shot two squirrels that morning, and then made her way along a small creek to set her snares. She was stepping over a mossy rock when she was gripped by pain. Her hands went to her low abdomen and the sharp, stabbing sensation made her stop in her tracks. She leaned against a boulder near the running water and set her pack and bow and quiver down on the bank. She doubled over in pain again and then felt something slick running down her legs.

Rivulets of blood dripped down into the creek as Katniss was finally able to stand. The pain had subsided to a dull throbbing, and so she was able to gather her things and head back. She was panting hard and her legs were shaking by the time she exited the forest. The shone down on her brightly, making a jest of it all. Her dream had turned into a nightmare.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So that last chapter was pretty heart-wrenching! Not everything can come out roses for our happy couple, though. Not in my story, at least. Anyway, it took me a while to write that one, even though it was something I had planned. Miscarriage is not something I take on lightly, and though I've never experienced it personally, I've seen/counseled/treated many women who have.

And wow, over one hundred reviews on five chapters? You guys are amazing! I thrive on feedback, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think about the chapter or characters or anything! I hope you enjoy this chapter, though it's pretty heavy stuff.

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She stared at the ceiling, at the wooden boards, her head cradled on the back of the rocking chair in the corner of the room. She knew the spot well, the feel of the old cushion beneath her, the blanket wrapped over her legs. She wasn't thinking about the lines and whirls in the wood. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular, but she couldn't quite escape the memories of days and weeks past.

How happy Peeta had been for that week. The nervous thrill of knowing she was pregnant. Then all their hopes and dreams dashed in waves of pain and blood.

She had dreamt of the ocean, of the ebb and flow of water. And then the dam had broken and the life water had flowed from her, turning the tiny universe Katniss had created for herself red.

There was a noise from the kitchen, and Katniss was vaguely aware of Greasy Sae's presence. The woman, now even older, was cooking breakfast for Katniss like she had done all those years ago. It seemed almost as if Katniss's life was stuck on repeat. Something about District Twelve brought tragedy into her life – her father's death, her banishment after Prim's untimely end, and now the loss of life all over again. The area was thriving. There was no hunger, no war, no Games. Yet she could not escape her own personal misfortune.

She looked up briefly as Greasy Sae set a plate of bacon and eggs down on the end table near her chair. The older woman narrowed her eyes and loomed above Katniss, as if waiting for something. It was then that Katniss realized Sae was expecting her to eat. The smell of the meal turned her stomach, though, and she made no move toward the food.

"You've got to eat," Greasy Sae spoke, her hands on her hips. She stood over Katniss for a few minutes, then let out a noise of exasperation and headed back toward the kitchen. The plate of food remained on the end table.

Katniss let her breakfast grow cold beside her.

It had been a rough few weeks since she had lost the pregnancy, and she remembered it all too well. She had been leaving bloody footprints on the earth by the time she made it out of the woods and back to the Victor's Village, pale and shaking. Her gait was unsteady and she lost her footing, her arms reaching out to catch herself as she fell to the ground. That's when one of her neighbors – returning from town – saw her.

"Mrs. Mellark, are you alright?" He asked. She tried to answer, but the world was tumbling over on itself. All she could do was shake her head. At that point, her neighbor's wife caught sight of them and ran to help.

Katniss would have rather endured the pain in private, but she was too weak to protest. The man was quick to action, running home to call the bakery while his wife helped Katniss up the back steps. Katniss was faintly aware of the woman helping her out of her hunting boots and to the couch. She thought the woman might have gasped at the sight of blood, but she could have been imagining things.

"Peeta is on his way," she heard a male voice say, but it sounded far away. Then the darkness took her.

When Katniss woke, it was to the sound of beeping monitors and whirring machines. For a moment panic seized her, the noise bringing to mind the trauma she had withstood after the games and the rebellion. She was back in the medical ward after she had suffered burns to much of her body, IV morphling clouding her sense and dulling the pain.

But she blinked and knew that had been in a different time, in a different place. She was lying on a firm mattress, a bag of fluids hanging above her. The room had wooden boards for walls, and lacked the whitewashed feel of the medic wards in the Capitol and District Thirteen. There was even an old photograph that hung framed on the wall, and an antique end table with a pitcher and washbasin stood in one corner, below a mirror.

Beside her, Peeta rested. He was seated in a chair near the bed, his body leaned forward so that his head was on her mattress. Her right hand was numb, and she realized it was because his hand was grasping it tightly.

"Oh, you're awake," a voice from the opposite side of the room startled her, and Katniss turned to see the town medic quietly opening the door. He slipped in, and she was even more surprised to see her mother following closely behind.

It had been over ten years since Katniss had last seen her mother, at the wedding. She still called her mother weekly on the telephone, but seeing the older woman in person felt like some sort of dream. Her mother had gray streaks in her blonde hair, and more wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, but still looked much the same. Her face was contorted into a look of worry, but her features softened to see Katniss alert.

"Mom…you came…" Katniss managed, the words thick on her tongue. Her mouth was dry and her lips threatened to stick together. She swallowed painfully as the older woman crossed the room, taking Katniss's one free hand in her own.

"Of course I came," her mother replied softly, her fingers warm and comforting. "I took the first train I could. Got here last night…"

Peeta hadn't stirred, but remained slumped over, his head near Katniss's hip. Mrs. Everdeen glanced over her daughter, but didn't smile. The older man, one of the district's healers Katniss recognized by face but not by name, picked up a clipboard from the end of her bed and began writing, stopping periodically to gaze at the monitors on the wall behind her.

"He hasn't left your side," Katniss's mother said, her eyes on Peeta's sleeping form. "I told him to get some rest, that I would stay with you, but he wouldn't leave…" she added, a reproachful tone to her voice.

Katniss turned to look at Peeta, his blond hair falling over his forehead and obscuring the scars that marred his features. He looked so young, his face relaxed in slumber, and she felt her heart clinch to think of their hopes and dreams smashed.

"I think we'll come back," the healer said, watching Katniss and her unconscious husband. "You just rest," he offered her a smile before setting down the clipboard and heading toward the door.

A concerned look passed back across her mother's face, but she kept silent. The healer lingered in the doorway.

"You're welcome to stay, Mrs. Everdeen…" He added, but the older woman squeezed Katniss's hand, then followed the man out of the small room.

Peeta was breathing steadily beside her, and so Katniss closed her eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

"You had a miscarriage, Mrs. Everdeen," the healer told her.

Katniss had woken up a few hours later to find Peeta watching her from the chair next to her bed. His hand was resting lightly on her arm, and he looked tired, despite having been asleep earlier. His brow was furrowed and the look in his blue eyes was hollow, but he managed something of a smile for Katniss. She moved her hand and laced her fingers in his. There was a knock on the door, and the same healer from earlier stepped into the room and spoke.

Katniss was unsure how she should react to the news. Her mother had been the district healer before this man, and so Katniss knew enough to be fairly certain what fate laid ahead once the pain and bleeding had begun. She had been disoriented at first, but with her mother there and Peeta by her side, she felt safe. For the moment, her emotions remained in check.

"I need to perform an ultrasound," the healer continued, his tone even. "But I wanted to make sure you were stable first."

Katniss nodded blankly. She felt numb, and she wondered what they had given her. The only thing that hung from the hook above her head was fluids, and she traced the line from the end of the bag down to her wrist. She didn't feel like she was under the haze of morphling, a haze she knew all too well. She would have been glad not to be under the spell of such a powerful drug, had she been glad of anything at all.

"Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Mellark?" The healer asked, standing at the foot of her bed. All she could do was shake her head. "Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes to perform the ultrasound," he added and then was gone.

The one question that invaded her thoughts remained unspoken. Why? Why had this happened to her? Why now? Why, after she had waited so long to have children did her first attempt end in failure? Why, after they had braved the games not once, but twice; after they had lived through death and torture and fire – why was this precious gift taken away from them?

"What happened…?" Katniss croaked, meeting Peeta's gaze. He looked even more haggard after the healer's appearance.

"Walt called me at the bakery," Peeta started. "Said there was an emergency, so I ran home as fast as I could. Lottie and Walt were there with you when I got home, but you had passed out. And there was blood – blood _everywhere_." Katniss could hear panic in his voice as he recounted the events.

"So we brought you up here, fast as we could," he continued, a distant look in his eyes as he stared off in thought. He found her gaze again, though.

"I was _so_ worried about you, Katniss…" his voice was beginning to tremble, and his grip on her hand tightened. He pressed his lips against her fingers almost desperately. "I thought I might lose you…"

His voice broke and tears welled in his eyes. He ducked his head and let out a strangled sob. Katniss watched him for a moment, then moved toward him, her free arm reaching out to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" Katniss whispered. The numbness she felt had slowly begun to transform into something quite overwhelming. Peeta looked up quickly, confusion on his features.

"Why…why are you sorry…?" He asked slowly. His eyes were red and his face streaked with tears. He looked worn beyond his years in that moment.

"Peeta…" Katniss started, her voice raspy. "We lost the baby…"

His confusion melted into recognition, and in one swift movement he leaned over the bed and gathered her small frame into his arms. She buried her face into his neck, the weight of her words threatening to tear her apart. But his embrace was solid and reassuring, anchoring her to the earth. It took her a moment to realize that he was crying again, at first softly. But then his whole body was shaking in sorrow.

"I'm sorry…" She repeated, knowing that it wouldn't change a thing. There were no words for such a time. And she knew he deserved better, but was glad that he had still chosen her.

He pulled back, holding her shoulders so that he could look her in the eye. She held her breath for what he would say.

"There's _nothing_ to be sorry about," he stated firmly, the conviction in his blue eyes almost alarming. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad you're ok."

And then Katniss couldn't help but break down. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the IV line grow taut. But she didn't care. He pulled her close again, his mouth against her ear murmuring declarations of love as she wept openly and bitterly.

She composed herself sometime later, straightening back up in bed, though she was reluctant to pull away from him.

"Where did my mother go?" She asked, doing her best to wipe away her tears.

"I sent her home to rest." Peeta answered. Katniss actually chuckled at his response.

"She told me she tried to send _you_ home to rest, earlier. But you wouldn't…" She explained. Peeta smiled.

"Yeah…" He admitted sheepishly. "But I slept some here, apparently." He craned his neck and it let out a loud pop.

It wasn't long before her mother returned, looking a tad more refreshed. The healer came in not a minute later, pulling a large cart behind him. Peeta stood and helped the smaller man maneuver the cumbersome machine in through the door.

"I'm going to do the ultrasound now, Mrs. Mellark." He announced.

The healer was a short, unassuming man with gray hair and large spectacles that reminded her of Beetee. Katniss realized she didn't even know his name. It was stitched onto his white coat, but he had removed it and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen stepped out of the way as the healer positioned the ultrasound machine near the bed. Katniss was suddenly glad she had accompanied Leevy on so many check-ups, or else she might have been put off by the whole ordeal. The healer pulled the curtain around Katniss's bed so that she wouldn't be exposed if someone walked in the room. Her mother and Peeta stood across from each other at the head of her bed while the healer donned a pair of gloves and prepared the ultrasound probe.

It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Peeta held her right hand in his, and she focused on the warmth of his fingers instead of the pressure down below as the man examined her. The screen at the top of the machine lit up, gray and black and white pixels swirling across the monitor. The healer moved the probe and the image would shift. Every so often he would press a button and the picture would pause for a moment. At one point, he looked at the screen and then up at Katniss.

"Well Mrs. Mellark, it looks like it was complete," he commented, pulling the probe out rather suddenly. Katniss's mother helped her straighten the sheets so that they covered her legs.

"Complete…?" Peeta asked quickly, before Katniss had the chance to voice the same question.

"See here," the healer entered a series of commands on the machine and an image from earlier appeared. He pointed to a gray structure that was shaped like an upside-down pear, hollow and black inside. "This is the uterus, the womb. And it's empty."

Katniss knew that the man was trying his best to break it down so that they could understand, but it all felt a little cold and uncaring. Katniss shivered even though it was far from chilly in the tiny, crowded room. Her mother had her jaw set, an analytical look on her face. She had been the town healer for years, and Katniss had seen her console grieving women, men, and children. Had seen her explain diseases and their treatments so that even the youngest child could comprehend. She had had no formal education apart from her family's apothecary business and her own life experience. Yet she would have never acted as impersonal as this academically trained healer from the Capitol.

"So everything has passed," the man was explaining. "She's had a complete miscarriage, so there's no need to put her on medicine or do any kind of procedure."

_Procedure?_ Katniss felt her panic returning. She glanced at her mother and Peeta, but they were listening intently to the healer, oblivious to the indignity she felt. Oblivious to the turmoil that had begun to well up inside of her. She inhaled sharply and wished for the numbness to return, to sink into indifference. But the tumult of her thoughts and emotions welled up until her world fractured.

It was as if some wild creature had possessed her. Sounds of a keening animal escaped her, unearthly wails and low moans. Her mother and Peeta tried to talk sense into her, pleaded with her until they saw that it was no use and reverted to restraining her thrashing limbs. The healer was shouting something as the tempo of the monitors raced. A medic ran into the room, syringe in hand, and then Katniss was engulfed in darkness.

When she woke, she was calm. She nodded "yes" or shook her head "no" when required, and her mother and Peeta hovered nervously over her. The healer scribbled in her chart and then released her home with two bottles of pills - one for contraception and one for sedation. The healer had recommended that she wait at least six months before she try to become pregnant again. The words went in one ear and out another, but Peeta was there, attentive as ever.

Her mother left on a train back to District Four a few days after Katniss was discharged from the infirmary. That's when Greasy Sae resumed her duty of preparing meals and checking in on Katniss while Peeta was at the bakery. Peeta dealt with grief in his own way, throwing himself into his work.

Katniss lost track of the days, the revolution of the earth marked out by Greasy Sae's appearance and disappearance. Peeta was there, at first trying to coax her out of the rocking chair and into bed. Some nights he would grow frustrated as she stared blankly at him, and he would let out a sigh in exasperation and stomp off upstairs alone. Other nights he would wrap her in his arms and lift her from her perch as if she weighed nothing. He would then carry her upstairs and set her gently on the bed. She would lift her arms automatically as he undressed her, then he would slip one of her nightgowns over her head. She would curl into herself, and nearly flinch at his touch. And so he would turn away from her, and when he thought she was asleep, he would let himself cry, his quiet sobs marring the silence.

She would climb down the stairs the next morning after those nights and crawl into the rocking chair, not even bothering to change out of her nightgown. Peeta would shake his head at the sight of her, the breakfast and dinner Sae had prepared lying covered – and uneaten – in the refrigerator.

"You _have_ to eat…" He would beg, leaning down with his hands clutching the armrests.

Some nights she would blink a few times and turn her head to look at him, and then glance down at the plate still resting on the end table. Slowly, so slowly, she would reach for the fork and shovel tiny bites into her mouth, her jaw chewing the food mechanically. She never really tasted anything. And on some nights she would just blink and turn her head to the side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She would hear him in the kitchen washing dishes. If he thought the running faucet drowned out the sound of his bitter laments, he was wrong.

"Katniss, please…" He pleaded one afternoon. It had become too cold for her to merely curl up in the rocking chair in her thin cotton nightgown, and so he had helped her into a thick sweater and some pants early that morning. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, and something nagged at the back of her mind.

"Katniss…" He breathed her name again. "I feel like I'm losing you…" He confessed.

He bent forward and pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes at the feel of his skin on hers, his hair tickling her face. Her hair was wet, as he had carried her upstairs and to the shower midday. It had become the routine, Peeta hauling her into the bathroom two or three times a week. Her personal hygiene would have been lacking – just as it had been when she had first returned to the district after the rebellion – if not for his incessant urging.

He had towel-dried her hair as much as he could, but it was still damp and cold on her shoulders. Katniss had scarcely cut it – except for a twice-yearly trim – in ten years, and so it fell in dark waves to her hips. Peeta had positioned her near the hearth so she would stay warm, and as he leaned over her, scared he was losing her, she couldn't help but think of what she had already lost.

There were flames everywhere and thick, black smoke choking her lungs. She couldn't yell, she couldn't scream. So she ran, dodging the fire as it licked at her heels. Someone was calling her up ahead. Someone whose voice she hadn't heard in over ten years.

Prim stood before her, the girl of thirteen that Katniss so vividly remembered. She embraced her younger sister tightly.

"I thought I had lost you…" The young girl whispered. Katniss saw the wide blue eyes staring up at her, but they weren't Prim's. They were Peeta's.

Katniss woke from her dream with a start, sucking in a deep breath. The air smelled of fire and burning wood, but it was void of smoke. There was noise from the kitchen, and Katniss shifted her body so that she could see Peeta and Greasy Sae preparing a meal. She glanced at the clock across the room. She must have fallen asleep earlier, after Peeta helped her shower and placed her near the hearth. Her long, thick hair – hair she thought would never fully grow back in after parts of her scalp were burnt – was still slightly damp. She stood and stepped over the blanket as it pooled at her feet. She walked quietly into the kitchen and took up her perch on one of the stools. It took a few seconds for Sae and Peeta to realize she was there, but when they did, they paused and exchanged a look.

And so gradually, things began to return to the way they had been. Katniss could have laughed, for it was truly as if eleven years had not passed at all. Greasy Sae was there with her long looks and town gossip – only this time Peeta chimed in right along with her. Somehow Peeta had convinced Haymitch to eat dinner with them more often, and it was almost comical to see him walk on eggshells around Katniss. Almost. He was as surly as ever, and often drunk. Haymitch would sling one arm around Peeta's shoulders on those nights and whisper all-too-loudly about how Peeta and Katniss just needed to "go for it" or "go at it."

"You got to make sure the plumbing still works," he would explain with a wink and a thump on Peeta's back. "You don't want things to rust…"

Greasy Sae would tut in disapproval, but Katniss and Peeta would manage a smile or even a chuckle, laughter reentering their lives easily. Katniss started hunting again shortly after the first snowfall. Sae had started to complain, more and more each day, about how she didn't have any wild game to cook. So Katniss dusted off her bow and quiver of arrows and set out into a world turned to winter. The peacefulness of the wilderness comforted her soul and lifted the thoughts that weighed so heavily on her mind.

Of course there were visits from Marc and Anabel and their gaggle of children, Edda and Theo, Thom and Levan. There had been flowers and cards and food early on, but Katniss hardly remembered any of it. In the beginning, Peeta had kept the visitors away for her sake, but he knew he couldn't keep them away forever. And so they came one at a time, or in small groups, to talk or bring treats or trade books that Katniss or Peeta might be interested in reading. Rye, Addie, and Minnie had all drawn pictures for Katniss, and she complimented them enthusiastically, to the children's delight.

Notably absent was Leevy, who at nearly nine months pregnant was on strict bed rest. Pangs of jealousy threatened to overwhelm Katniss when she thought of the girl who was her age and about to give birth to a healthy baby. Life was cruel and rarely fair, and Katniss felt relief mixed with guilt at not having to see Leevy. She sent Leevy her best wishes with Thom and Levan, but Katniss knew it would take time before she was ready to face her friend.

Peeta began to pull himself out of the deep chasm of grief as well. As laughter was added to their lives, so were furtive looks and knowing smiles. Katniss made her own way up the stairs at night and undressed herself. There was no need for coaxing as she would crawl into bed beside him. She wouldn't flinch from his touch, but rather she would turn toward him, her body unfurling like a flower in the sun. Her hands would cup his face and their lips would meet and she would say all of the things that remained unspoken between them not with words but with tender caresses and fervent kisses.

And one night in early December, Leevy gave birth to a little boy, naked and squalling. Katniss buried her grief in the sacred space where she kept her most precious memories of Prim and her father, and went to pay Leevy a visit. The new mother looked tired, but happy. Thom was beaming, a proud new father. Katniss felt an ache deep in her chest to think of that same look on Peeta's features when she had been pregnant.

Later that night, Peeta held Katniss as she wept.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Alright, so the last chapter was very dark and very sad. I just felt like I had to go there, that there would be rough times ahead for Katniss and Peeta. This isn't just a fluff piece, but no worries, there are better times to come! I apologize for not uploading this chapter sooner, but I got caught up in all the fourth of July festivities yesterday and didn't finish the chapter like I had planned. But anyway, here it is! And there is some fluff, literally. You'll see what I mean, hehe.

And thanks a million times over to everyone who reads and reviews/comments. You guys are the best audience there is, and I'm so lucky to be able to write for such a great group. And to those of you who know what the loss I touched on in the previous two chapters is like from personal experience, my condolences. It's never easy, and you guys are stronger for having made it through something like that. I have had my own personal tragedies, though not that.

Anyway, enjoy! And please continue to leave me feedback. I live on it!

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The lake was cool on her skin as she dangled her feet in the clear water. It was late spring, and all the world was in bloom. When she arrived at her favorite spot, she had startled a mother duck and her babies, who were now preening themselves on the distant shore. Two weeks prior, she had come upon a spotted fawn hiding in the underbrush. She prayed that no hunter found the tiny creature. Poaching carried a heavy fine, but it was not that uncommon to find her snares plundered.

The weather had been idyllic, afternoon rain showers throughout early spring leading to verdant foliage. The primrose bushes Peeta had planted so many years ago were blossoming, the pink and yellow flowers adding color to their front yard. If it had been left to her, Katniss would have let the grass grow tall and the flowerbeds become overrun with weeds. Her neighbors would have had something to say about that, though, as they all had neatly manicured lawns. Except, of course, for Haymitch. But their former mentor had a seldom-used lawn tractor he kept in a shed near the goose pen. Peeta would wheel it out every-so-often to clip the grass in both yards, Haymitch bursting out of his front door, cursing and yelling about the noise.

Peeta would also spend a few of his days off in the spring dutifully weeding the flowerbeds. He had planted some peach trees in their back yard a few years back, and the vibrant blossoms would soon fall off as they bore fruit. She had been attentively watering the primrose bushes and peach trees for the past few days, as Peeta was gone to the Capitol. He had been planning to expand the bakery for the past two years, and had finally journeyed to the Capitol to purchase new ovens and equipment. Marc had accompanied him, while Edda and Theo kept the shop up and running. Rye, who was now thirteen years old, was spending his summer vacation helping in the bakery as well.

It was difficult for Katniss to believe that the boy she had held merely hours after his birth was a teenager. He still worshipped his Uncle Peet and Aunt Kat, and was a loving and protective older brother to his two younger sisters. Addie was seven and Minnie was four and the two girls couldn't be more different. Adelaide was smart as a whip, her brown eyes thoughtful, her days spent quietly pouring over books. Minnie, on the other hand, was a bubbly child and never met a stranger. She idolized her big brother, hanging onto his pants' leg and sharing the secret jests of youth with him.

Leevy and Thom's son was three and a half and looked so much like his Uncle Levan had at the same age that Katniss could have sworn she had jumped back in time. Little Tommy, with his round face and wide-set gray eyes, resembled his Seam-born parents as well. But unlike his father, Tommy would never know the backbreaking labor or the claustrophobic confines of the coalmines. None of the children of District Twelve would ever have to send their fathers off to work still covered in yesterday's grime. They wouldn't watch as their mothers anxiously awaited their husbands' return and worked long hours as seamstresses, washerwomen, maids or cooks for the wealthy townsfolk. Katniss prayed they would never know true hunger either, the gnawing pangs that transformed to a deep emptiness filled with only hollow stares.

And of course, the children would never know the horror of the games, the cruel injustice of youth at its prime being so violently sacrificed in front of an audience. Not firsthand, at least. Rye had started asking questions at the tender age of six. At first it had been about Uncle Peet's fake leg. That was shortly followed by inquiries about both Peeta and Katniss's scars. And then there were questions about his grandparents, about Haymitch – who still showed up intoxicated at the occasional dinner – and countless other things.

"Why is it called the _Victor's_ Village?" Rye had asked one evening over dinner at Katniss and Peeta's. He had been nine at the time. His parents had been vague when answering his earlier questions about Katniss and Peeta.

"What was the victory, if it's called the Victor's Village?" He rephrased his query and looked up expectantly at the adults.

The normally cheerful Anabel did not smile as she turned to Marc. Katniss and Peeta exchanged a look.

"Well Rye," Peeta spoke up, glancing at Marc for any sign of protest. Rye's father was silent, though, and gave Peeta a slight nod. "This country used to be ruled by a different group of people…"

Rye listened eagerly as Peeta explained. The rest of the adults held their breath, collectively.

"Now the group of people were upset about a war. A war that took place many, many years ago," Peeta continued, choosing his words carefully. "So to punish everyone and to warn them not to go to war again, they forced each district to send a boy and a girl, every year, as tribute."

Rye's eyes had gone wide and he was on the edge of his seat. Katniss thought Peeta's explanation sounded like some ghost story one told children so they wouldn't misbehave.

"These tributes, they were sent to an arena where they had to fight each other. They had to fight to the _death_, while everyone in the entire country watched…" Katniss wished it _was_ some make-believe tale, but her scars bore witness to the truth.

"Only one boy or girl, the last boy or girl left alive, was crowned Victor. And so he or she would return to his or her home district and live in the Victor's Village." Peeta concluded.

Rye's mouth was agape, and he looked back and forth between Peeta and his parents, as if waiting for one of them to start laughing and say it was all a joke.

"It's true," Anabel said softly, the expression on her face solemn. "But it's not why people have houses in the Victor's Village anymore," she added. "Except for Mr. Abernathy, and your aunt and uncle…"

Rye looked even more astounded, and then turned back toward Peeta. Katniss could have almost laughed at the boy's expression, had the subject matter been different. The raw fear, the instinct to survive, and the weight of her sorrow were all too real for any sort of jest.

"So you had to fight to the death, Uncle Peet…?" Rye exclaimed after he thought for a moment.

"That's enough." Marc stated sternly from the opposite end of the table. His stare was intimidating, and it seemed to warn his son to drop the matter.

So they eased into something of an awkward silence, picking up their forks and knives to continue eating. Rye kept silent, but stole curious glances at Katniss and Peeta throughout the remainder of the evening.

That had been four years ago, Katniss mused. Before the school curriculum introduced the history of the Hunger Games and the rebellion. Now most of the town's children knew some diluted version of events, and knew that Katniss and Peeta had played a part. There was the occasional whispering and pointing at the bakery, which Peeta simply shrugged off with a smile. Parents would apologize, but they had been guilty of worse things when Katniss had first returned to District Twelve, steering their children out of her way and sending her reproachful looks.

It had been sixteen years, almost to the day, since Katniss had volunteered as tribute. Sixteen years, half her life. And it had been fifteen years since the Quarter Quell and the rebellion. In a few weeks, it would be her thirteenth wedding anniversary.

She had argued with Peeta over their ninth, when he had wanted to plan a large party to celebrate. They had compromised, agreeing to wait until the next year, but then she had miscarried in the fall and Leevy had given birth and it was all too much for Katniss to be around children and infants even half a year later.

So they had celebrated their tenth anniversary in the quiet of early June. Peeta took the day off from the bakery and woke at dawn to make Katniss's favorite, cheese buns. She slept in, letting the bright sunlight wake her slowly, pull her out of slumber. She led him to the lake, dragging him away from the kitchen with the promise of wild blueberries and a refreshing swim. Peeta was due any day for another prosthesis, and so he didn't hesitate, but dove into the cool water enthusiastically. He splashed Katniss violently, and she squealed, and it almost didn't hurt that it reminded her so much of frolicking in the lake with her father.

Katniss had been glad that for one day at least, she had forgotten about her anguish, her despair. And slowly she realized, lying on a warm, flat rock next to Peeta, that above all things, she was loved. And not because of anything she had done to earn it. No, she was loved simply and unconditionally because of who she was, because of all the good Peeta saw in her. Because of the strength and courage and beauty that he found within her – which was difficult for her to see within herself sometimes.

No, above all her grief, her life was happy. And on that warm day in late spring she resolved to move on from the setbacks she had experienced. She had come too far to let heartache rule her life. She was blessed with a roof over her head, plenty of food, and a group of friends that had become a ragtag sort of family over the past ten years. And she had been given Peeta. Peeta, who had loved her before she even knew he existed. Who had lost a leg protecting her, whose heart had stopped beating, who had been tortured by the Capitol and turned against her and who had still found his way back to loving her…

"What're you thinking?" Peeta had asked, shading his eyes from the bright sunlight with one hand to look at her. She turned her head and smiled.

"How lucky I am…" She replied.

She could have shrugged and said nothing. She could have made up some inane thought to tell him. But she didn't.

Peeta broke out into a wide grin, and for a second Katniss thought he might ruin her sincere statement with a smart-alec comment of his own. But then his generous smile shifted and she knew by the look in his eyes that he understood what she meant. And so he closed the distance between them, his arms encircling her. His mouth tasted of blueberries, and Katniss kissed him with eagerness and joy.

She thought about how warm the rock ledge had been that day, the feel of it against her skin as he peeled back her wet swimming suit. She felt her cheeks turn pink at the memory of those impassioned moments by the lake. She kicked her right leg violently at the surface and sent a substantial splash across the body of water, causing the ducks to squawk in protest.

Even though Peeta would only be gone for three days, and even though she was thirty-two years old, she still missed him terribly. It was as if the whole world got smaller, as if the air became thick and hard to breathe when he wasn't there with her. She pulled her legs from the water and tucked her knees into her chest. He had called her last night, when his train had arrived at the Capitol, and he had promised to call her again tonight. He and Marc would do their ordering and purchasing today and the next, then were scheduled to leave on a train back to District Twelve tomorrow night. She was counting down the minutes until his return because she had something important to tell him. Something that couldn't simply be said over the phone.

She was pregnant.

This time, though, she had carefully watched for the signs. She had only felt nauseous once or twice early on, but her missed cycles couldn't be ignored. By her best estimate, she was three and a half months along – well past the point of her previous miscarriage.

She had yet to tell Peeta, or anyone for that matter. The healer had told her to wait at least six months to get pregnant and had provided her with a steady supply of birth control pills. That had been almost four years ago. But on the perfect day that marked her tenth wedding anniversary, Katniss decided that she would have a child with Peeta. She wouldn't let her grief weigh her down or let her disappointment deter her. Her hopes and dreams had not been dashed, but had merely been delayed for a time.

And Minnie and little Tommy filled up her and Peeta's life until she was sure she was ready to try again. At first it had been tough to be around the infants, knowing what she had lost. She would visit Leevy for short periods of time, and always with Peeta sitting resolute beside her. She couldn't even hold the little boy at first, but Leevy was understanding and seemed to sense Katniss's discomfort even before she herself could. The reserved girl would rise and take Tommy to his crib for a nap, and Katniss would breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes there were bitter tears afterward, but that eventually faded until there were only smiles and glad conversation on their walk back to the Victor's Village.

Greasy Sae tried her best to be sympathetic, in her own way.

"You know, I lost a little one once," she shared one evening at dinner. Katniss and Peeta both looked up surprised.

"I was about six months or so, and all of a sudden the labor pains hit me and there was nothing that could be done," the older lady explained, her voice even.

"The little baby – it was a girl – came out about the size of an orange, all bloody and tiny and quiet," Sae recounted. Katniss looked down at the meat on her plate and suddenly lost her appetite.

"We buried her in a hat box…" She added after a pause, the look in her eyes distant.

"I'm sorry," Katniss managed, looking at the gray-haired women. Greasy Sae had never told that story before, and Katniss realized the older lady hadn't ever really said much about her own past. Sure, she would talk about current events about town – who was having an affair with whom, whose garden needed tending, what so-and-so said about the new mayor – but she didn't much talk about days gone by.

"Oh, don't be sorry!" Sae exclaimed. "I don't mean for you to pity me. I was just telling you so that you know it's a lot more common than you think."

Katniss ducked her head and smiled, stabbing her fork through a cluster of green beans.

And so it had taken her three years, three years of swallowing the little blue pills each day, three years of watching Peeta's face light up around Rye, Addie, Minnie, and Tommy. Three years of preparing her heart for something that was greater than winning the games, greater than being a symbol of the rebellion: being a mother.

She had stopped taking the pills in the fall, and never mentioned it to Peeta. Only this time, she wasn't doing it on a whim. She wanted – no, she needed this baby. It was almost as if she had something to prove to herself, to Peeta, to the world. That after all the upheaval in her life, she could still have some sense of normalcy. It was a basic, intrinsic need.

February came without her monthly courses. And then March and April. Now it was mid-May and she was still holding her breath, praying that the pain and cramping wouldn't come. She was scared. Terrified that life – so real and so precious – had quickened within her once again. But that fear was overridden by her sense of need. Three and a half years ago, it had all seemed like a dream. And that dream had ended. But this pregnancy felt real. Every nerve-wracking minute, every new symptom that she fretted over.

Katniss hadn't told Peeta yet for a myriad of reasons. She couldn't crush him again, if he got his hopes up and the pregnancy didn't make it to term. She just couldn't live with his happy spirit forever disheartened. She didn't want to curse herself. She didn't want to doom them to live that same event over again. She felt like telling him would break some sort of spell that had been tenuously cast over her. So she kept putting it off, the days growing into weeks until he had left for the Capitol and she had some time alone to think.

Greasy Sae came over that night to check on Katniss. It really wasn't necessary, but the older woman didn't mind. And Katniss had a sack of freshly picked blueberries to hand off anyway. Sae's blueberry cobbler was legendary. Katniss had set a few cups of the berries aside for Peeta to make muffins when he returned, and she smiled to herself at the thought. The older woman watched her suspiciously.

"I know you're pregnant…" Greasy Sae stated bluntly. Katniss looked up in surprise.

"Don't try denying it," the older woman warned. "I've been on this earth long enough and seen enough young women to know." Her mouth curved into a sly smile.

Katniss didn't quite know how to respond. Was she that transparent? Would Peeta know as soon as he returned home? Her belly hadn't started to show yet, at least as far as she could tell. Her pants were a tad more snug, but she blamed that on good cooking and age. At least that's what she blamed it on around others.

"When were you thinking of telling that husband of yours?" Greasy Sae asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Katniss knew she should tell him, and probably sooner rather than later, but trepidation filled her at the thought.

"I'm going to wait til our anniversary," she explained as if she had planned it all along. "It's just a few weeks away…"

Greasy Sae gave her a long look, but didn't argue.

"Tell who what?" Said a loud voice from the back door. Haymitch stomped in, looking back and forth between Katniss and Sae. Katniss couldn't help the guilty look that passed across her face.

"That you're running off with Leevy's little brother…?" Haymitch teased, walking past the two standing women to take a seat at the kitchen table. "He's far too young for you, in my opinion…"

Katniss could have kicked the chair out from underneath her former mentor. Levan never had really grown out of the crush he had on Katniss, and at twenty-three, had yet to court any of the numerous girls his age. But Katniss was glad that Haymitch hadn't pried into what Sae had truly been talking about, and so she just sent a scowl his way.

"When's lover boy coming home?" Haymitch asked between bites of his dinner. Katniss could have smiled to think that after all these years, the nickname still stuck. She knew Peeta hated it, though.

"Day after tomorrow," Katniss replied, then almost started when the phone rang. "That's probably him right now," she added brightly, walking into the living room to answer.

She sighed happily at the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

"Who would have ever thought that those two kids would make it…?" She heard Haymitch mutter to himself from the kitchen. She chuckled and shook her head.

"What's so funny?" Peeta asked.

Peeta and Marc returned a day and a half later. Katniss and Anabel, along with Rye and Addie and Minnie, walked to the station early that morning. The usually bubbly Anabel was anxious, as she'd never been away from Marc for more than a day since they had been married. It made Katniss recall the first time Peeta had been sent to the Capitol, after his fall in the bakery, and the longing she had felt. True, her heart ached when he was away, but it was easily to cope now. Plus, with her pregnancy, she had bigger things to worry about.

The men returned in high spirits, Peeta chattering on and on about plans for the expansion and the state of the art ovens he had ordered. Rye listened attentively, asking questions every-so-often. Marc gazed at his son proudly, and Katniss felt a pang at the thought of what she had denied Peeta for so long.

June arrived, and so did their thirteenth anniversary. Peeta had been busy at the bakery, preparing for the expansion, ever since he returned. Ever since she knew she was pregnant, Katniss had traded long days trekking in the wilderness for lighter days around the house or short jaunts into the woods. She had kept that a secret as well, though.

Peeta apologized, but explained to Katniss that he was too busy to take the entire day off from the bakery. Instead, he told her to meet him in town early that afternoon for a treat. So she spent the morning preparing some semblance of a meal for later, then headed toward the shower. Katniss examined her profile in the mirror, trying her best to make out any sort of roundness to her bare stomach. She was thin, though not as painfully thin as she once had been. She was also muscular, though, with a hint of curves – at her hips, her arms, her chest. Her dark hair fell in waves to her hips when it wasn't in her usual braid. Yes, there was a fullness in her breasts that hadn't been there before, but her belly was still quite flat.

After Katniss showered, she towel-dried her hair and re-latched her pearl necklace around her neck. She slipped into a floral summer dress and made her way toward town. She knew Peeta still wanted to have a party at some point, but she was glad he was too caught up in his work to plan it this year.

The sun was warm and the weather cheery as Katniss walked toward the center of town. She greeted those she recognized with smiles or waves, and even saw Leevy out with Tommy, the toddler on her hip. When Katniss arrived at the bakery, Peeta was nowhere to be found.

"He told me he was meeting you at home," a confused Marc told her, scratching his head. Rye popped up from the back storeroom.

"Yeah, Aunt Kat, he left a while ago," the teenager stated.

"Hmmm…he told me to meet him here for a treat," Katniss explained.

"Oh, he said he forgot something," Edda chimed in from behind the counter. "Said if I saw you, to tell you to just head back home…" She gave Marc and Rye a calculated look, but Katniss was unsure what it all meant.

"Take a some cookies with you," Edda smiled and pressed a box full of frosted sugar cookies shaped like flowers into Katniss's hands.

So Katniss made her way _back_ down the lane to the Victor's Village that afternoon, a tad frustrated and quite a bit confused. She had the sneaking suspicion that Peeta had something up his sleeve, and she just prayed that it wasn't some sort of party. But Edda and Theo, Marc and Rye were all at the bakery, and she doubted that Peeta would exclude them from such a gathering. She came upon the row of houses and nothing seemed amiss, which made her even more curious. She nearly ran up the back steps and into the kitchen.

But the kitchen was empty, though the light was on. The food that she had prepared was still put away in the refrigerator, and she set the box of cookies down on the counter.

"Peeta?" She called, advancing toward the living room.

"In here," was his response, and she caught sight of him standing near the couch. She stopped in her tracks, though, when she saw what he was holding.

"Surprise!" He grinned.

Wiggling its plump body in Peeta's arms was perhaps the fluffiest golden puppy Katniss had ever laid eyes on. It had floppy ears and big brown eyes and wagged its tail violently as Katniss approached her husband. There was a large pink bow tied around the puppy's neck.

"I didn't know what to get you, for our anniversary," Peeta explained, struggling to keep hold of the energetic pup. "But I saw these little guys when I was shopping in the Capitol one day, and I figured, why not?"

Katniss was sure she should be mad, or at least somewhat upset at Peeta for bringing home a pet without even discussing it with her first. But the puppy turned its head and started to lick Peeta's face happily. He laughed, and the sound of it was so pure, so joyous, that she couldn't be mad. She reached out her arm to stroke the pup, its golden fur unbelievably soft beneath her fingers. Peeta handed the squirming animal to her and she gathered it in her arms. The puppy's wet nose found Katniss's neck and its warm tongue licked her skin playfully.

Buttercup had finally passed away a few years back, and Katniss had actually been sad to see the old, ugly cat go. Peeta had dug a grave for him in the back yard and used a smooth stone for the marker. Katniss had actually cried over the ancient animal's death. He had been Prim's cat, a piece of her that Katniss could cling to, but now he was gone.

"She's a hunting dog," Peeta was explaining as the puppy licked her face. "We can train her to retrieve."

Katniss raised an eyebrow at him. Who exactly was going to train the dog? Peeta worked full-time at the bakery, so taking on another important task would be nearly impossible. Katniss set the puppy down on the floor and it sniffed around the furniture.

"She's already housebroken," Peeta beamed.

"What are we going to call her?" Katniss asked. A much younger Katniss would have protested. Would have told him that it was another mouth to feed. But they had plenty of food now, and if the dog could actually be trained as a retriever, it would prove a practical companion.

"How about Daisy?" Peeta asked. "That's what I've been calling her…"

"Daisy…" Katniss spoke the name thoughtfully.

The puppy was sniffing around one of the coffee table legs, then squatted suddenly. Peeta reacted instantly, scolding the puppy and scooping it up. Katniss laughed as he ran toward the back door with the dog. _Housetrained, huh?_ She thought. Peeta came back in the living room a few minutes later, Daisy prancing behind him. Katniss gave him a long look.

"I just thought it was one way – a different way – to start a family, for now," he explained, a sheepish expression on his features.

And then she remembered _her_ surprise. The cute animal had made her temporarily forget about the news she had for him, but then she realized there would soon be another addition to their family.

"Peeta," she said and he looked as if he were bracing for harsh words. But she stepped forward and took his hands in hers. She gazed into his bright blue eyes and smiled.

"I'm pregnant," she told him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** So this chapter starts off right where the last chapter ended, with Peeta's reaction and such. There's quite a bit of fluff in this chapter, as I touch on Katniss and Peeta's relationship, her anxiety about being pregnant/being a mother, etc. I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter, and hopefully this one meets expectations!

And there's quite a long bit about Katniss going to the town healer. Now I know in the books, District Twelve only had Mrs. Everdeen as their healer, so things were pretty rustic. But from talk about medic wards and healers in the Capitol and such, I am assuming that those places have more current medical technology. So in my story, now that the medical factory is open in Twelve, there is an actual healer (which I use synonymously with doctor) and a functioning clinic with modern medical conveniences.

Anyway, thank you thank you thank you to all my avid readers and loyal reviewers. It makes writing this all worthwhile to know that you guys are enjoying it. So keep reading and keeping leaving me feedback. Hope you enjoy chapter 8!

* * *

If Katniss thought Peeta had been surprised when she told him she was pregnant nearly four years ago, it was nothing compared to the genuine astonishment he displayed on the afternoon of their thirteenth wedding anniversary.

Peeta stood across from Katniss, his mouth agape. His bright blue eyes were the widest she had ever seen them. Katniss waited for him to speak, but the silence stretched on. It seemed as if he was in shock.

"Well say something!" Katniss said finally, stomping her foot. The puppy whimpered, and Katniss realized she had forgotten about their new pet.

"I…I…" Peeta started, his eyes still wide.

Katniss realized he couldn't find the words, and in that moment it all felt real. She felt the tears begin to well up. In a series of fluid movements, Peeta closed the distance between them and gathered Katniss into a tight embrace. In the warmth of his arms, she burst into quiet sobs.

"Katniss…?" Peeta spoke tentatively. Her whole body shook against him.

"I've just wanted this _so_ much," she confessed, her head buried in his neck. "I'm happy, I really am…"

She pulled back so that she could meet his gaze. She knew her face was probably a red, tearful mess, but she couldn't hold back the joyful smile that spread across her features. Peeta still wore an expression of surprise from her confession, but broke out into a broad grin as well.

"You really _are_ happy, aren't you…?" He laughed mirthfully, placing his hands gently on her arms. "I...I'm happy _too_, Katniss," he stated, leaning close and looking her in the eye.

She moved forward and their lips met, her hands sliding up to cup his jaw. The kiss intensified, Peeta's hands traveling from her arms to her waist and then her hips. But just as she began to feel that Peeta couldn't be close enough, Daisy decided to make her presence known.

The puppy let out an impatient bark, then jumped up to paw at Katniss and Peeta's legs. They broke apart laughing, and Katniss bent down to scoop Daisy up into her arms. The pup eagerly began licking away the salt tears from Katniss's face. Katniss ruffled the dog's fluffy ears, then bounced her around, cradling Daisy in her arms like a mother would a newborn.

"Huh Daisy, how does that sound?" Katniss asked the puppy. "How about a younger brother or sister?"

And Peeta laughed again, folding his arms across his chest. Katniss knew she looked even more ridiculous, holding the plump puppy in her arms in the middle of their living room while wearing a designer floral dress, her face still puffy from crying.

"You already sound like a mother…" Peeta said softly, stepping toward Katniss to pet Daisy. Katniss stopped bouncing the puppy and leaned forward to kiss Peeta again, this time their lips meeting tenderly.

Daisy decided to join in after a few seconds, her tongue alternating between both Katniss and Peeta. They stepped back from each other and burst into laughter once more. Katniss placed the puppy gently back down on the floor.

"Now we have to figure out what we're going to do with her…" Katniss said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh," Peeta exclaimed and headed toward the study.

He emerged a moment later with a large box. He set it down on the coffee table and Daisy stood on her back paws to inspect it, her back paws resting on the side of the box.

"I've been hiding this stuff for two weeks now," Peeta chuckled, pulling out various items and setting them on the ground. Katniss sat on the couch and watched.

"Where have you been keeping her all this time if you got her in the Capitol?" Katniss asked.

"Edda and Theo watched her for me," he replied, pulling a matching food and water dish from the box. "I thought about letting Marc, but I don't think the kids would have let me have her back…"

"You're right about that," Katniss agreed with a laugh.

There was a red collar and leash, a few brightly colored balls, a bag of food and another of treats. The last item Peeta procured from the box was a square-shaped, pillow-like structure.

"A doggie bed," he explained. Daisy sniffed at the edge of it.

When Prim had been alive, Buttercup had slept in bed near her. Katniss wondered how long the separate sleeping arrangements for Daisy would last.

Peeta sighed and sat on the couch near Katniss, rubbing his left leg near the prosthesis. Even though he was only thirty-two years old, Peeta had a time with his leg, not to mention his other joints. He never complained, though.

"The best anniversary ever," Peeta said, wrapping an arm around Katniss's shoulders. "We get a puppy _and_ I find out we're having a baby!"

And Katniss felt her fear melt away for a moment at the sight of Peeta's face lighting up just as Marc's and Thom's did around their children. She offered him a warm smile and rested one of her hands on his left leg, feeling for once that maybe she _did_ deserve him.

"So how…how far along are you?" Peeta asked, eyeing her belly.

"I'm not sure, but I think about four months…" She replied.

"Four months?" Peeta exclaimed, turning his entire body toward Katniss. She giggled and smiled, slightly abashed. He looked nearly as surprised then as he had when she first told him she was with child.

"I just wanted to wait to tell you until I got farther…farther than last time," she told him, her expression growing more somber.

She was stared down at the folds in her dress, but looked up when his hand found hers. He leaned in and brushed his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes tightly and willed the tears she felt stinging her eyes not to fall.

"It's going to be ok, you know?" Peeta almost whispered, his face lingering close. His hand squeezed hers reassuringly.

She didn't tell him that he couldn't promise her that. That he didn't know the future. But she knew that he didn't mean their life would be perfect. She knew he truly meant that no matter what happened, they were strong enough – together – to face it.

Katniss smiled and gazed down to where their hands were connected.

"Four months, huh…?" Peeta murmured, sliding his hand from her lap to her belly. He leaned down and kissed her stomach through the fabric of her dress.

Katniss put her hands on either side of Peeta's head and guided him back up so that she could kiss him. She delighted in the feel of his mouth on hers, his lips soft and warm. The kiss was slow and gentle at first, then became more fervent and hurried. There was no pup to interrupt them this time, though, as Daisy had fallen asleep on the wood floor, her head propped up on the edge of her bed.

Peeta made quick work of her dress, slipping it up over her head, then crashing his lips against hers passionately. Katniss unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers expeditious, and then pushed the garment off his shoulders as he unbuckled his belt. She reveled in the muscular curve of his arms beneath her hands, the smooth skin of his chest and back. She explored every inch of his body with her fingers and lips. She caressed every scar while he ran his fingers through her hair.

In the thirteen years they had been married, Katniss's ardor for Peeta had not diminished. If anything, her body's eagerness for him had grown, been honed to an exquisitely sharp edge. Where she had floundered innocently – though endearingly – in their earliest consummations, she now proceeded with certain finesse. She knew his body as if it were her body, as if the sound of his heartbeat – strong and steady – was the sound of her own.

There were still times that they fumbled, both of them halting to burst into snorts of laughter. There were other times where Peeta grew fierce and rough, a dark look clouding his features. His hands would shake and clinch into fists near her neck as if he were trying his best not to throttle her. Those nights were the worst, and Katniss would pause, despite her own aching need, and gather his face into her hands. She would force his blue eyes – wild and terrifying – to meet her own while she whispered comforting words to him over and over, until it turned into some sort of makeshift song.

And sometimes she did sing to him, rocking his tense body in her arms until he let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. She still remembered every song her father had taught her, and the words haunted her on those bleak nights.

But more often than not, their passion was grounded in Peeta's steadfast devotion to her and the blaze of love she felt for him. He was an attentive lover, and eager, though he would smile slyly when he brought her to the heights of pleasure agonizingly slow, her desperate supplications met with light strokes and teasing caresses. But above all, Peeta worshipped Katniss, and Katniss him, the two performing perfect liturgy in their own way.

And so the afternoon crept by slowly as Katniss and Peeta found themselves in the throes of passion, lingering at its peak for long moments before finally falling back to earth.

They almost forgot about dinner, but Daisy woke at some point and began whining. The pup sniffed around at Katniss and Peeta's discarded clothing, rooting her way under Katniss's dress. Katniss and Peeta laughed when Daisy couldn't find her way out and began fighting with the fabric. Peeta stood gingerly, stretching his left leg, and then bent to extricate the puppy from the offending garment.

They dressed, although Katniss did so reluctantly, then headed toward the kitchen to heat the meal she had prepared earlier in the day. Daisy went with them everywhere, though Peeta had to carry her up and down the stairs. He set out her food and water bowl in the kitchen, filling the dishes from the tap and the large bag of dog food. They switched her pink bow for the red collar, complete with tags – one showing proof of vaccination and the other displaying her name, address, and phone number. Most of the dogs Katniss had ever been around were hunting dogs, strays, or wild dogs, and none had ever had gold, heart-shaped tags. She let out a breath and a chuckle and shook her head. She kept silent on the matter, though, and enjoyed her anniversary dinner with Peeta.

Peeta set the plush doggie bed next to theirs, but that didn't last long. After only a few minutes in the dark, Daisy began to whimper, pawing at the mattress. Katniss gave Peeta a look, but doubted that he could discern it in the dim light, as he sighed and leaned over the bed. The pup wiggled her way toward the head of the bed to lick Katniss and Peeta vigorously, then curled up happily between them.

Katniss had yet to tell anyone she was expecting. Greasy Sae knew, and of course Peeta, but she still felt as if some delicate charm was holding everything together. And by telling others, it might break.

"Let's go to the healer," Peeta said one evening, over dinner. He had been itching to tell everyone at the bakery that he was going to be a father. "At least they will be able to tell just how far along you are…"

"No," Katniss quietly refused. Being kept in the infirmary when she had miscarried had made her fearful of ever going back there. It was just something she would prefer to not relive.

Peeta watched her, but didn't argue. He reached out one hand across the table to hold hers.

"I know with what happened last time, it's hard…" He spoke softly, as if reading her mind. She met his gaze, but kept silent.

"You know, there's a new healer now…" He added enthusiastically. And Katniss knew it was true.

The healer she had seen, the older man with gray hair and not much of a smile, had only lasted three years in District Twelve. The rumor was that he had decided to retire, and he was at an age in which it made sense. But he was Capitol-born, and so many speculated that he was using any excuse to escape from such a backwards district.

Shortly after his departure, a new medic had moved into town. This one was a woman in her early thirties with auburn hair and a quick smile. She had grown up and been trained in District Thirteen, and had none of the Capitol pretentiousness about her. Most of the townsfolk sang her praises, though there were a few wives complaining that their husbands had all suspiciously taken ill shortly after the new healer set up shop.

Katniss called her mother shortly after dinner that night, knowing the call was overdue. Her mother had been the first to know before, and had traveled all night to see Katniss after she suffered the miscarriage. So Katniss dialed the number feeling a tad guilty at not informing her mother sooner.

"Well, Peeta decided it was time to expand our family," Katniss spoke in a wry tone.

"And…?" Mrs. Everdeen asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

"He got me a puppy for our anniversary," Katniss revealed with a laugh.

"Oh!" Her mother exclaimed with a relieved chuckle. "I thought you meant something else…"

Katniss knew she should tell her mother the truth of the situation, but she didn't quite know what to say. She glanced through the living room and into the kitchen where Peeta was washing the dishes.

"Katniss…?" Her mother asked after a period of silence. There was concern in her voice.

"Mom," Katniss started, her tone quiet but serious. "I'm pregnant…"

She could have said something about _her_ decision to expand their family in a different way, but she knew the words would sound trite and rehearsed. This time, there was silence from the other end.

"Peeta didn't know," Katniss explained, "before he got the puppy…"

"Oh Katniss!" Her mother exclaimed.

"I didn't tell him til our anniversary," she continued.

Her mother was thrilled, and they talked for a long while on the phone.

"He wants me to go see the healer," Katniss explained. Her mother could hear the trepidation in her voice.

"Katniss, you know what I'm going to tell you…" The older woman said. Her mother being a healer herself, Katniss knew there would be no point in arguing.

"I know…" Katniss sighed. "And I'll go, as long as Peeta agrees to go with me." She added.

Two days later, Peeta accompanied Katniss to the town healer. Katniss felt apprehensive, but kept her jaw set. Peeta offered her his hand, and so she wrapped her fingers around his, comforted by the strength she felt there.

Her fear was allayed when the healer stepped into the room and greeted them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mellark," the woman said with a smile, extending her hand. "I'm Dr. Cavanaugh." Katniss and Peeta both shook her hand warmly.

"I finally get to thank you in person, Mr. Mellark," Dr. Cavanaugh said with a bright smile as she led Katniss and Peeta to a small exam room. Katniss look at Peeta, confused by the healer's words.

"Please, call me Peeta," he replied.

"Well, Peeta," Dr. Cavanaugh continued, "thank you so much for the generous donation to the clinic."

Katniss was still confused, and gave Peeta a look. He was silent, though, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face as they took a seat in the tiny room.

"If you'll wait here, I'll be back in a moment," the healer said before leaving the room.

"What donation?" Katniss asked as soon as the door was closed.

"I donated some money from the bakery a little over a year ago," Peeta explained. "It was a word-of-mouth sort of thing. I heard that the clinic was struggling to afford new equipment and needed funding for tests and the like…"

"You never told me about that…" Katniss spoke.

"It didn't seem that important, at least at the time…" He replied with a shrug. Katniss shook her head at Peeta, a smile breaking out across her features. It was just like Peeta to do something so considerate and never speak a word of it. Never seek any praise or accolade for an act of kindness.

The red-haired healer knocked and entered not a moment later, clipboard in hand. Katniss's heart beat in her throat for a moment, the sight of the white coat and clipboard all too familiar. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

"What brings you here today, Mrs. Mellark?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked, her cheery smile a comfort.

"I'm pregnant…" Katniss spoke, trying to sound optimistic. The healer congratulated them both, then scribbled down a few notes.

"Do you know about how far along you are…?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked, looking up from the clipboard.

"That's what I'm not sure of," Katniss explained, balling her hands together in her lap.

"Well, that's not a problem," the healer responded with a smile. "I just need to ask you a few questions, alright?" Katniss nodded, and though the healer was only a few years her senior, she suddenly felt like a small child.

Dr. Cavanaugh asked her a series of questions, from the date of Katniss's last cycle to what kind of birth control she and Peeta had been using. Some of the queries made Katniss's cheeks turn pink, but she answered them anyway. The young healer reminded Katniss of a more cheerful version of her mother – strong, understanding, and relatable.

When it came to the topic of any previous pregnancies, Katniss ducked her head and stared at her lap. She felt a sharp ache in her chest, and knew that despite her determination to move on, despite her strength, the grief was still with her. It would always be with her, but she knew that it hadn't controlled her life in a long time.

So she told the healer about the miscarriage and the medical treatment she received afterward. Peeta opened his mouth several times to speak, but stopped himself and allowed Katniss to continue. Dr. Cavanaugh wrote as Katniss spoke, offering words of sympathy every-so-often. Katniss was surprised that she felt relief after telling the young woman her story.

"I need to do an ultrasound, alright?" Dr. Cavanaugh told Katniss after taking her history. Katniss nodded.

The young woman left the room, then returned a few minutes later with the machine. It looked much like the one Katniss had seen four years earlier, but seemed slightly more compact. She had the suspicion that some of the money Peeta had donated went into buying that piece of equipment.

"I'm going to just look through your belly first," the healer explained, picking up a flat probe. "Based on your last cycle, you should be far enough along that I can see the baby this way."

Katniss was glad that she didn't have to be subjected to the other probe. She lay back on the examination table as instructed and lifted her shirt as the healer squirted a warm, clear jelly on her skin. The only ultrasounds Katniss had ever witnessed were an early one of Leevy's – the baby no bigger than a tadpole – and her own, after her miscarriage. So she wasn't quite sure what to expect, being as far along as she estimated. The screen of the machine lit up, and Dr. Cavanaugh punched a few data points in before placing the probe on Katniss's abdomen.

At first the picture was grainy, gray and white shapes morphing indistinguishably from the black. The healer clicked a button every so often, freezing the image on the screen. She explained each picture, each measurement she took to determine the age of the baby. Katniss tried to absorb all of the information, but it was overwhelming.

"And here's your baby's head," the healer paused the screen and pointed to white and gray lines.

Peeta, who had been standing beside the large machine, leaned in closer, his eyes growing wide. Katniss was unsure what she was looking for at first, but after a moment, she suddenly made out the profile of a face. Someone gasped, and it took a few seconds for Katniss to realize she had been the one to make the noise. Peeta turned to her, an expression of amazement on his face.

There was a tiny universe inside of her, one that she and Peeta had created.

She stared at the tiny face on the screen until Dr. Cavanaugh pressed a few buttons and it was gone, replaced by letters and numbers. Peeta moved to stand beside the examination table, his face still wonderstruck. His hand found hers, and she looked up to find tears in his bright blue eyes.

"It looks like you're about seventeen weeks along, Mrs. Mellark," the healer told them. "That puts your due date around the first week of November, give or take two weeks," she added with a chuckle.

"And…and everything's ok?" Katniss asked tentatively. Peeta squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Your baby's perfect," Dr. Cavanaugh said with a smile. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" She asked.

"You can tell…?" Peeta asked, almost in disbelief.

"I'm not the best at it," Dr. Cavanaugh admitted with a good-natured laugh, "but I can take a look if you'd like."

Katniss looked up and met Peeta's gaze. Leevy must have chosen not to find out, since the birth of a boy had been a surprise to them. Katniss had not accompanied Leevy to her later ultrasound appointment, as Thom had taken off of work for the occasion, so she didn't realize that knowing whether the baby was a boy or girl before birth was even an option. It definitely hadn't been a choice in the days when her mother had been the only healer in the district, lacking most standard medical equipment and pharmaceuticals.

"It's up to you," Peeta told her, the hint of a smile playing on his features. Katniss looked back to Dr. Cavanaugh, who sat on a stool near the hulking machine.

Katniss shook her head slowly.

"No, I don't want to know…" She said softly, glancing between the healer and Peeta. "I mean, I would rather it be a surprise," she added with a smile.

If it had been up to Peeta, he would have told everyone they saw out and about that day their good news. He wanted to stop by the bakery, but all Katniss wanted was a quiet afternoon at home.

"Can we just go home? We need to check on Daisy…" Katniss reminded him. "We can tell everyone at dinner tomorrow night."

Peeta conceded, knowing that it would be easier to tell their closest friends in the privacy of their own home rather than in town, at the bakery.

And so as Daisy grew that summer, so did Katniss, her belly changing from its normal flat expanse to the slightest of bumps. Everyone from thoughtful Adelaide to curious little Minnie to the typically reserved Leevy wanted to touch Katniss's stomach. They were all thrilled for her of course, but no one was happier than Peeta. His blue eyes were perpetually bright, no matter how late he worked at the bakery, no matter how much his leg ached. He beamed with pride and wore a cheerful smile that made him appear half his age. Katniss thought she had only seen him so happy at certain moments, like when they had to appear the perfect couple during the Victory Tour. But this wasn't for an audience, though Peeta had likely shared the joyous news with most of the town just a few days after their clinic visit.

While Peeta was too elated to worry, Katniss was filled with apprehension. Every stomachache, every dizzy spell foretold something catastrophic. Was she gaining enough weight? Was she gaining too much weight? Was she taking the proper vitamins, eating the right type of food? Would she be a good mother?

She thought of her own mother, around the time of her father's death, and how the older woman had simply decided to check out of life. Prim had been so young and so tiny, and there were too many nights where they brewed tea from whatever edible plants they could find, their stomachs rumbling painfully from lack of food. Katniss knew she was strong, that she had pulled herself out of the chasm of grief on many occasions. But what if something were to happen to Peeta? She had blamed her mother for years, held a quiet resentment for the woman that she only began to let go of after the games. Katniss could say that she was stronger than her mother, had seen the effects too many times to let herself repeat the cycle. But she had seen the district drunks drown on their own vomit, bottle in hand, leaving wide-eyed children behind who then grew up to be alcoholics themselves. So the nagging fear remained.

And Katniss could have talked to Anabel or Leevy, and she did garner some advice when the subject was brought up over dinner with friends or afternoon tea. But she didn't seek the other ladies out on her own, feeling that her uneasiness was foolish. What if they thought she wasn't fit to be a mother? There had been extensive speculation on her mental health when she first returned to District Twelve, and she wanted anything but to play the part of the lunatic again.

But when her fear got the best of her, Peeta was there to bring comfort and balance back into her life. Lying in bed at night, Katniss would confess her worries, from the most basic concern to her most outlandish nightmare. And Peeta would talk her through each thought, each scenario, as if they were back to playing the questioning game from years past. It always helped, her mind put at ease from his words – his assurance that their child would be healthy and loved and that she would be a great mother.

And of course there was Daisy. The puppy got into mischief occasionally, chewing on the wooden table or chair legs, tracking in mud after a summer rain, or barking continuously at some unseen threat. But she loved unconditionally and was always happy, her fluffy golden tail wagging more oft than not. The children couldn't get enough of her, Addie and Minnie and even little Tommy squealing over Daisy's affectionate kisses and playful ways. And she was quick to learn, Katniss trading long hikes in the woods for days spent in the backyard teaching the puppy. Peeta had brought home a stack of books from the Capitol on everything from basic dog care to specifics on training a retriever, and so Katniss poured over them during the warm summer months.

Even Haymitch took an interest in the pup, trudging over in the afternoons to work alongside Katniss. She made sure not to tease the man, as she was grateful for his help with Daisy. But she remembered the first time he had set eyes on the dog, declaring in his rough snarl that the animal a waste of time – and money. He had warmed to her, though, each night he joined Katniss and Peeta for dinner, his comments reduced to quiet, sidelong looks at the happy puppy. She would sniff at his pant leg, and he no longer scolded her, sending her to hide near Katniss or Peeta, but would bend down to pet her. And then one afternoon when Katniss had been having a time with Daisy, trying to make her bring the ball back and not simply prance around the yard with it, Haymitch had appeared, declaring that he knew how to _properly_ train a dog.

On Peeta's days off, they took Daisy deep into the woods and to the lake, to swim. The first trek was taxing, the puppy not accustomed to the leash or all of the curiosities of the forest. But they made it eventually, and coaxed the retriever into the cool water while Katniss swam close by. Daisy's brown eyes were wide and her swimming erratic, but she quickly became familiar with being in the water and paddled around happily.

"She'll be going out on hunts with you in no time," Peeta said one day. It was deep summer and Daisy had plunged eagerly into the lake to retrieve a stick Katniss had thrown.

"When I _can_ go out and hunt, you mean," Katniss replied with a smile, holding her round belly. She was nearly six months along and growing bigger by the minute.

"I _do_ miss all that fresh game…" Peeta teased with a smirk. Katniss dipped her leg into the edge of the water and splashed him playfully.

"Hey!" He protested as Katniss laughed.

A soaking wet Daisy returned to them not a moment later, dutifully dropping the stick at their feet. Without warning, she shook off her thick coat, drenching both Katniss and Peeta. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Love you too, Daisy," Peeta said in a wry tone, petting the wet dog on her head.

And in that moment, Katniss felt the baby kick, as if their unborn child was trying to join in on the fun. Katniss took Peeta's hand and slid it over her stomach so he could feel the movement as well. He laughed then, pure and clear, his blue eyes bright in the sun.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** So time for another chapter! I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the dog + baby part of the story and it didn't seem too contrived. Now this chapter follows Katniss during her pregnancy, and...well, you'll just have to read and see what happens!

And again, thank you to all those who have read and reviewed. I've suddenly gotten a lot of "guest" reviews, so I don't know if the method of posting comments has changed. So if I haven't thanked you individually for your review, then just know that I appreciate all of you and everything you have to say! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please feel free to leave feedback!

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It was early autumn and the world had changed from the verdant growth of spring and summer to the golden, firy tones of the cooler season. Katniss was well into her seventh month of pregnancy and was quite miserable. Her back ached from the bulge of her gravid belly. Her ankles swelled painfully after long days on her feet, and she was increasingly fatigued even if she took time to rest.

Peeta did his best to care for her every need. Their house was never void of cheese buns or her favorite sweets. In the evenings, they would sit together on the couch, Katniss's legs propped up on a pillow in Peeta's lap as he massaged her aching feet and calves.

Leevy let Katniss borrow clothes for her growing abdomen. By August, Katniss's pants had no longer buttoned, and so she had been forced to leave them undone, covered by a long tunic. Her discomfort and lack of a suitable wardrobe had come up during dinner one evening and Leevy had quietly offered to loan Katniss her maternity wear.

Most women in the district reverted to flowing dresses or skirts with waistbands that would give when they were expecting, but most of Katniss's clothes were more form-fitted pairs of pants and dresses from the Capitol. So she took Leevy up on her offer and picked out several long dresses, a few skirts, and even a couple of pairs of pants with large bands of stretchy fabric that would easily cover her protruding belly. She was grateful for Leevy, and lucky that her quiet friend was roughly the same size.

Little Tommy had been curious about Katniss's changing figure. Rye and Adelaide had seen their own mother pregnant before, and so were somewhat accustomed to the sight. Tommy was Leevy's pride and joy, and she didn't venture out with him much, unless it was for a group dinner or to visit Thom at work, and so the boy had probably never laid eyes on a pregnant woman. Katniss could remember when Leevy had been just as overprotective of Levan.

"It looks like you stuffed a ball under your shirt," Tommy declared one day, eyeing Katniss's stomach. "A _big_ ball," he added.

Leevy narrowed her eyes menacingly at her son, then turned apologetically toward Katniss.

"I'm _so_ sorry…" She said, her features riddled with embarrassment.

Katniss chuckled and shook her head.

"It's alright, Leevy," she said with a smile. She gazed at Tommy, who had grown silent at the look from his mother.

"Do you know what's in my belly…?" She asked the four-year-old.

"Addie and Rye told me it's a baby…" He answered, but there was a tone of skepticism.

"Oh?" Katniss asked. "And what did your mom and dad tell you?"

"They said the same…" He admitted reluctantly.

Katniss tried her best to hold back her laughter. The little boy with his dark hair and gray eyes would be five in early December, but sometimes he spoke well beyond his years. She had the suspicion that it was from being around the teenaged Rye and seven-year-old Addie so much. Bright and bubbly Minnie was quite mature for her age as well.

"I just want to know," Tommy started, his brow furrowed, "if that's a baby, how did it get in there?"

Katniss couldn't help but laugh at his animated question. Reserved Leevy broke out into soft giggles as well. Tommy just looked even more confused, and rather exasperated.

"What's so funny?" He demanded, looking between Katniss and his mother.

"Oh, that's something you're going to have to ask your mother or father one day, Tommy…" Katniss told him when she had finally composed herself.

Leevy bent and wrapped her arm gently around her son. He just scowled at them both, his arms folded across his chest.

"My mom told me the stork brings babies," Minnie told Katniss one evening in late summer, a few weeks after Tommy's inquiry. Marc and Anabel and their three children were over at Katniss and Peeta's for dinner.

Rye had sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes at his youngest sibling. Anabel began laughing uncontrollably. Katniss wondered if that had been the best decision for Anabel, to tell Minnie anything but the truth. But the little girl was Anabel's daughter, and so Katniss knew she had no right to criticize.

At that moment, Katniss saw Addie bend down to pet Daisy, who was lingering about the table, hoping for scraps.

"And what about puppies?" Katniss asked Minnie. "Does the stork bring puppies too?"

"No, that would be _silly_," Minnie said, bursting into a fit of giggles.

Her laugh was pure and joyous, and Anabel and Katniss couldn't help but chuckle as well. Marc was quiet, an amused look on his face as he continued to eat, and Peeta laughed a little under his breath, sending Katniss a bright look.

That fall, Daisy by her side, Katniss spent the cool days taking leisurely walks through the forest. She had spent much of her early pregnancy at home, afraid to exert herself for fear of miscarriage. And then when that fear passed, there was Daisy to train. The weather had been mild that summer, but it was still too hot by Katniss's reckoning to venture out on long excursions into the wilderness. But when a certain chill crept back into the air, Katniss laced up her hunting boots and grabbed her pack, forgoing her bow and arrows for Daisy's leash. She knew that she could still shoot, even with her protruding belly, and she often shot targets in their backyard to not become inept with disuse.

But on her walks with the dog, she focused on the sights and sounds of the forest, the feel of something miraculous happening inside of her. Once she was under the cover of trees, she would let Daisy off her leash, and the growing pup would wander close by, sniffing at the foliage. Katniss would stop for a bite to eat, tearing off a piece of dried meat for the retriever, and then sip the cool, clear water from a quickly-flowing stream, Daisy lapping at it with all four paws in the water. And as the sound of liquid tumbling over stones filled her ears, knowing that she carried the gift of life within her, she felt connected to the earth in a way that she never had before.

She didn't stray too far out into the forest, though. There were wild dogs and other predators, as well as plenty of human hunters who might mistake her or Daisy for prey. Her stomach would lurch when the peal of a gunshot disrupted the quiet of the woods, and she would turn back toward the Victor's Village, her dog following close behind.

On days that Katniss wasn't out of the house, she spent time working on the nursery. The house had three bedrooms, and when her family had lived there, her mother and Prim had inhabited the other two. Katniss had cleaned out her mother's room and converted it into something of a guest bedroom a year or so after her return to District Twelve. Her mother had moved directly from District Thirteen to Two and began her work there as a healer, and the few things she had left behind, Katniss had mailed to her new address.

Prim's room, however, had remained untouched for almost five years.

Greasy Sae had dusted the room, tidied up the things that had been left there – now unintended memorials to the girl who had once lived there. But Katniss couldn't bear to enter it, to open the door to a grave that held only grief and pain and sorrow. So Peeta had been the one to carry the boxes upstairs one spring when Katniss had decided to de-clutter the house. Peeta's art had overrun their home, and he stored paintings and supplies in just about every room. But Katniss sent him into the little room closest to theirs with a purpose – to pack up the things that had belonged to Prim. She knew there wouldn't be much, clothes that had been left behind, a few trinkets and toys, sketches and drawings tacked up on the wall. Katniss had gone hunting that day, so many years ago. She had trekked far out into the wilderness, but grief still followed her, as if it had been let out of the room where it had been entombed.

But now Katniss was turning the room into the nursery, painting the walls a sunny yellow, and trying her best not to let Daisy get dog hair everywhere. Peeta had made a few calls and several catalogs were sent. Katniss poured over their pages and marveled at all the products infants apparently needed, everything from disposable diapers to bassinets to the latest Capitol fashions made miniature to fit their tiny forms. She and Peeta had ordered a crib toward the end of summer, and it arrived a few weeks later in a large box. It took them three days, Katniss trying to decipher the instructions, Peeta battling with the parts, to assemble the piece of furniture. But once they did, it stood against the wall perfectly, as if it had been there all along.

Both Anabel and Leevy had generously offered to loan Katniss clothes for the baby, and she had taken up the mothers on their proposal. The garments from the Capitol were expensive, and often outlandish, but Katniss did order quite a few outfits so that she didn't have to solely rely on hand-me-downs. If she had been any sort of seamstress, she would have sewn clothes for the baby herself with material from the fabric shop in town. But other than fixing a torn seam or sewing on a button, Katniss wasn't skilled with a needle and thread. She couldn't knit blankets or little booties, and she left the artwork in the nursery to Peeta.

All in all, she felt rather unprepared for motherhood.

At each check-up, Dr. Cavanaugh assured Katniss that the baby was healthy. Phone calls to her mother helped answer the questions she did have, questions she felt foolish asking anyone else. And of course Peeta allayed her other fears with gentle reminders of her strength and courage.

Peeta covered canvases with renditions of their golden pup – who wasn't much of a puppy anymore – as well as a hauntingly life-like portrait of Katniss. He hung those pieces in the nursery, along with one of a lamb – which Katniss mistook for Prim's goat Lady at first. They moved the rocking chair from the living room to the baby's room, Peeta trying to maneuver it by himself at first. Katniss argued with him as he struggled to lug the chair upstairs. He finally gave in and let her help him.

Peeta would wake Katniss every morning before he left for the bakery, bending down to kiss her goodbye. And now he would also place his hand lovingly on her gravid abdomen and tell the baby goodbye, kissing Katniss's stomach through the fabric of her nightgown.

Anabel had knit three tiny hats for the baby, and Katniss rubbed the soft wool between her fingers.

"Got to keep that little head warm this winter," Anabel spoke cheerfully, her words trailed by merry laughter.

Katniss thanked Anabel and gave her a tight hug, making the talkative woman giggle even more. She had also brought a large box full of the hand-me-down baby clothes from Rye and Addie and Minnie that she had promised Katniss.

"Does it hurt…?" Katniss asked abruptly. She was folding the clothes she and Anabel had unpacked from the box and the thought had popped into her mind suddenly.

"Oh," Anabel let out a noise of surprise, then a giggle. She grew quiet and thoughtful for a moment. "You mean labor, right?" Katniss nodded.

"Of course it hurts," Anabel replied with a wide grin. "But that doesn't last. What _does_ last…" her voice trailed off wistfully and she looked off at the wall, but Katniss knew that Anabel wasn't thinking about the color of paint or the style of trim.

"What _does_ last…it's worth every labor pain. It's worth every sleepless night, every dirty diaper…" Anabel said with a laugh.

Daisy decided at that moment to push her way through the half-closed door and into the room. Katniss leaned down to pet the dog.

"The kids have been begging us for a dog, ever since Peeta got you Daisy," Anabel said, folding a soft green baby blanket. "I think Marc's close to giving in."

But in the meantime, Anabel would bring the children over to play with Daisy. Rye preferred to help out in the bakery, only coming over occasionally. Adelaide and Minnie were both in school, but their mother would bring them over in the afternoon after class was let out, or on the weekend. The weather was cool and the sky clear most days, and so it was perfect for romps through Katniss's backyard.

On some days, they would all walk back to town, Addie and Minnie taking turns holding Daisy's leash while Anabel chattered away to Katniss. They would pile into the bakery to see Peeta and Marc and Rye, Daisy waiting patiently outside, her leash wrapped around a post. Anabel would scoop up Rye for a kiss or a hug, despite his protests. Peeta would light up at the sight of his pregnant wife, and he would dash around the counter to greet her affectionately.

Where he would have placed his hands on her narrow waist before, there was now the expansive swell of her belly. He would touch her abdomen gently, with reverence for the miracle it held, then bend to kiss her lips tenderly. He would linger, and neither of them would care that they were in public. Five-year-old Minnie would protest loudly in an exaggerated tone, and say something about how kissing boys was "gross" or "yucky," and everyone would laugh, Katniss and Peeta included.

The morning of the 14th annual Harvest Festival dawned bright and unseasonably warm late that October in District Twelve. Between working on the expansion of the bakery, helping Katniss with the nursery, and baking special treats for his booth at the festival, Peeta had been beyond busy. Each year the festival had grown, with more and more residents of the district selling their wares. There were games and activities for children and adults alike – face painting, bobbing for apples, a ring toss, dart throw, sack races, and horseshoes. There was even a roughly-constructed dance floor and stage, where there was dancing and a band. Blue Evanston and Dolly Hamm played their fiddles and Rig Ainsworth beat on a makeshift drum while eager townsfolk whirled to the music, their feet marking out the steps to dances they hadn't enjoyed in years.

The factory was even closed for the day so that the entire district could attend the festival, and so the town square was packed. Greasy Sae couldn't cook enough of her stew or casseroles, selling out by midday. Peeta and Marc would run back and forth between the bakery and their booth, carrying out new batches of cookies and cupcakes. The whole celebration was a much-needed holiday for the denizens of District Twelve. An excuse for merrymaking and revelry.

This year, though, Katniss had to waddle the half-mile from her home in the Victor's Village to the middle of town. She was due to give birth any day, and had been ready to be rid of her enormous, round belly for the past two months. She had been forced to stop her strolls through the woods then, the treks becoming increasingly difficult and far more tiring with each passing day. She hated being cooped up in the house, but her gravid condition had necessitated it. Anabel and the children came to visit often, as well as Leevy and little Tommy. But Katniss was happy to travel to town on the morning of the Harvest Festival, Daisy by her side.

She greeted Anabel – it was her fifth year now selling hand-sewn clothes and knitwear – at her booth, as well as Addie and Minnie, who were sitting beside their mother. Katniss tried her best to dodge the throng of people swarming Peeta's booth, and she had almost made it through to greet her husband when folks began to notice her. There were middle-aged women she only knew by face and not by name that stopped her to ask about the baby or feel her stomach. There were young men who parted to allow her through, their eyes wide as if she carried some sort of plague. And then there were those who thought they were helping by offering to link arms with her or placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, even though she wasn't off balance. She spoke to the women courteously, letting them touch her belly. She stared daggers at the young men, but smiled and thanked those that offered her unsolicited help.

Katniss finally made it through the crowd and with a heaving sigh, sat down violently near Peeta.

"That rough, huh?" He asked, giving her a concerned look. She was breathing heavily and rubbing her protuberant abdomen. She gazed up at him.

"Yeah…" She managed. It was warm that morning despite being well into autumn, and she was already sweating profusely.

"Where's Daisy?" Peeta asked, glancing about for the dog.

"Oh no, where'd she go?" Katniss exclaimed suddenly, rising as quickly as she could from her chair in Peeta's booth. Even Marc paused while serving a customer to stare at Katniss. She realized that the dog hadn't been with her amidst the drove.

"Oh, Anabel's got her," Peeta said with a chuckle, placing his hand gently on Katniss's arm. He pointed toward the far booth and Katniss craned her neck. She spied Anabel waving animatedly at her, Addie and Minnie petting Daisy.

Katniss let out another long sigh and collapsed back into her chair. Every position was uncomfortable at this stage, whether it be sitting or standing or lying down. There was no convenient way to sleep. If she slept on her back, she felt as if the baby was crushing her and she was unable to breathe. She couldn't roll over and sleep on her stomach for the huge swell of her belly. And so she would curl up on her side at night, her back aching from even minimal activity throughout the day, and attempt to sleep. But Katniss couldn't remember her last restful slumber. She would wake throughout the night and send scowls at her unconscious husband who was oblivious to her suffering. Some nights she would trudge downstairs and drift off leaned against the back of the couch or in one of the high-backed armchairs. Daisy would wake when Katniss did and dutifully follow her to the living room, resting curled up at her feet.

"I feel like I swallowed a pumpkin…" Katniss managed, having caught sight of the fresh vegetables for sale at the next booth over.

"I feel like _I_ am the Harvest Festival…" She added with a chuckle. Peeta laced his fingers with hers and leaned over to give her a kiss.

Once she felt adequately rested from her walk to town, Katniss took a stroll around the stalls. Carol Ann was still selling her beautifully crafted jewelry, and Katniss offered the older woman a cheerful wave and touched the pearl hanging around her neck reflexively. Her fingers brushed the round stone and she thought of how precious it had been to her, how it carried hope and love. She still felt attached to the pearl, felt a strong sentiment over it, but her true hope now lived inside of her – in her heart, and in her womb.

"You're going to pop that baby out right in the middle of town if you're not careful," Greasy Sae told Katniss as she handed her a bowl of stew. Katniss gave the aged woman a generous amount of coins for the warm bowl.

"It's alright if I do," Katniss replied between bites of the hearty meal, "I saw Dr. Cavanaugh just a minute ago…" Greasy Sae shook her head, but Katniss could tell that she was smiling.

Katniss was debating whether or not to buy Peeta a box of saltwater taffy – one of his favorite treats – when she spotted Thom and Leevy, little Tommy in tow. She quickly paid for the taffy and headed over to say hello.

"Oh my, Katniss," even reserved Leevy had to say something about the rotund state of her friend. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Leevy shot him a look of warning. She hadn't quite recovered from her embarrassment over her son's comment about the ball…

Thom took Tommy off to get his face painted, and so Katniss and Leevy roamed through the booths together. Leevy was admiring a soft knit shawl when she met Katniss's gaze.

"Have you and Peeta picked out a name?" She asked. They had been talking – well really Katniss had been doing most of the talking – about the nursery and its set-up when the question came up.

"Well…" Katniss replied, a sheepish grin on her face. And she _had_ discussed names with Peeta. Their only problem was agreeing on one.

It had been Peeta who originally brought the subject up, months ago, when Katniss was barely showing. But she had not really given any thought to the matter, so she had brushed it off for the time being. In truth, she had never imagined having children, and so dreaming up baby names had not been her pastime of choice while growing up. So in those days when she could still make her way deep into the wilderness, she would spend time thinking about what she wanted to call their child.

Of course she had been named by her father, and after a plant. So naturally, flower and plant names came to mind. Daisy had already been taken. But there was Lily and Aster, Lavender and Myrtle, Dahlia and Belladonna and Orchid. There was Ivy and Heather, Petunia and Holly.

But what if it was a boy? There was Ash and Alder. Sage or Heath. Cypress or Cedar or Elm. He would grow tall and strong like the tree he was named after. But why limit the names to those of plants? Why not think about all of nature? And so Katniss would become lost in thought some days, and it would all become rather overwhelming.

It didn't help that Peeta hadn't been too keen on most of the names.

"Aster…?" He asked, the word sounding harsh on his lips. "What kind of name it Aster…?"

"It's a _flower,_" she replied emphatically. "_I_ was named after a flower…_Prim_ – " And Katniss stopped short, the name that had lain unspoken between them now voiced.

But it was not fair to the countless dead to name their child after one person in particular. And Katniss didn't want a little Primrose running around – the grief was still too raw. Marc and Anabel had toed the line when they named their son after Peeta's eldest brother. But in their case it had seemed a fitting tribute, as he was Marc's friend and not family. But just as Katniss wasn't prepared to name a son after her own deceased father, she wasn't ready to name a daughter after Prim.

Maybe someday, their son or daughter would know of their kind aunt and choose to name one of their own children after her. And if Katniss were still alive at that point, she wouldn't disapprove. But for now, she hoped that moniker remained sacred.

"We haven't settled on anything yet, really," Katniss told Leevy as they moved on to another booth. "We are waiting to see if it's a boy or a girl first."

"Oh, that makes sense," Leevy replied softly, smiling. "We had picked out Thomas for a boy, but we weren't sure on a girl's name…" she explained with a laugh. "So I guess it's fortunate that we had a boy."

Levan joined them a short while later, his gray eyes bright, his olive skin flushed from dancing. There was a group of several young girls who looked sorry to see him leave the dance floor. He paid for Leevy and Katniss both a tall glass of fresh lemonade from a nearby stand. Leevy left a short while later to check on her boys, and so Katniss walked with Levan, one hand on her belly and the other holding her refreshing drink.

"I'd ask you to dance, but I think that's out of the question," Levan said with a laugh, nodding toward her stomach. Katniss chuckled good-naturedly as well.

"I'm afraid I'd either fall and break something or go into labor," She replied in a joking tone and they broke out into laughter once more.

Katniss was already feeling winded from her walk around the booths, so Levan led her over to sit on the steps of one of the storefronts. She sipped her lemonade as he sat beside her, watching the crowd. The district had grown exponentially since the factory had opened seven years prior. The majority of people who had moved into the area were from other districts, those who had been hard-pressed to find work in their own towns or those who simply needed a change of scenery. News of the large factory had spread across the nation, and the news channels had even run stories on the occasion, though no camera crews had bothered to show up in town. No, the news stories from seven years ago had mentioned the new factory, but they had simply aired old footage from District Twelve, including parts of Katniss and Peeta at the ribbon-cutting ceremony.

"Looks like we're celebrities again," Peeta had said one evening, the light from the television flashing across his features.

Katniss had glanced briefly at the screen, then tried to ignore it. If it were up to her, she would never even turn the television on. But then a statement from one of the reporters made her stop in her tracks.

"I'm here in District Two with Gale Hawthorne," the female voice announced. Katniss turned slowly to stare at the image.

"I understand, Mr. Hawthorne, you were once a resident of District Twelve," the woman said. She was wearing a bright magenta suit and her hair was electric blue. She held out a microphone to the man next to her.

And there on the screen was Gale Hawthorne. At that point, tt had been five years since Katniss had seen him at her wedding, and at first, it seemed as if he hadn't aged a day. He stood tall, his black hair cropped close, his gray eyes as haunting as ever.

"Yes, I'm originally from Twelve," he answered gruffly, his arms folded across his chest. He seemed…_different_, Katniss thought. As if working for the government had changed him.

"And what do you think of the prospect of a new factory there?" The woman asked, her white teeth bright against her hot pink lipstick.

"I think it's a great new opportunity for the folks back home," he said. _Home_. Katniss knew he didn't mean it. District Twelve hadn't been his home for a long time.

And so that's when she had stopped watching the newscast, ducking out the back door to bring in the laundry from the line.

But the factory had been a wonderful opportunity for a district that was down on its luck more often than not. Everyone who cared to had a job and decent wages. The remaining land from the mines was used for growing crops, the harvest split among the citizens. Katniss smiled as she drank the last of her lemonade and glanced at Levan. He had been saved from a life of backbreaking toil in those mines, along with countless others. The very child in her belly would never know that world firsthand. And he or she would never know the horror of the Hunger Games either.

Two weeks after the Harvest Festival, Katniss's water broke.

She hadn't slept well the night before, and had woken that morning feeling a good amount of pressure down below. She had been peeling potatoes at the sink when she felt at first a trickle, then a gush of fluid splash onto the floor. It was clear, and she was so surprised that she nearly nicked her finger on the knife before setting it on the counter. She looked down at the mess she had made, then realizing what it meant, ran to the phone in the living room. She was careful not to slip and fall as she picked up the headset and dialed the bakery.

Peeta came bursting in through the kitchen door not fifteen minutes later, short of breath and grabbing his side. Katniss could have laughed at the sight of him if she hadn't been so scared.

When the pain started, it was something of a mild cramp. The cramps came every ten minutes or so, and Katniss calmed herself down by walking around the house and helping Peeta clean up the kitchen. Daisy paced restlessly around the house as well, whining every so often. Sae came over a few hours in, and Mrs. Everdeen had already been called – courtesy of Peeta – and was on a train heading toward District Twelve. It all seemed quite surreal to Katniss, except when the contractions hit her. Greasy Sae suggested Katniss take a warm bath or shower, and so she filed into the bathroom, Peeta close behind.

He rubbed her back when the contractions worsened, coming every minute or so, and she practiced steadying her breathing. She felt as if her pelvis was split in two, and she could feel the crushing pressure of the baby's head emerging. Peeta was holding her hand and stroking her shoulder and trying comfort her, but she didn't hear any of it. She pushed when Sae told her too, her hands hooked behind her knees, her chin against her chest.

Their baby came squalling and covered in blood, but was the most beautiful sight they had ever laid eyes on. Katniss began crying at the sound of her child, and she didn't quite know if it was from relief or the sheer joy she felt in that moment. Sae carefully cleaned off the infant, then presented the tiny bundle to Katniss and Peeta.

"It's a girl," she told the happy new parents, and Katniss wept even more.

The older woman attended to Katniss a few minutes longer, taking care of the afterbirth while Peeta cradled his daughter in his strong arms. She had a head full of dark hair and her eyes blinked open, revealing not the soft gray orbs Katniss had expected, but bright blue eyes that were the perfect mirror of Peeta's.

"What are we going to name her…?" Peeta asked, handing her back over to Katniss.

Katniss held her baby girl close, her tiny head resting against Katniss's beating heart. It took the new mother a moment to realize she was still crying. Weeping, in fact. And then a name came to her, as if it had just been whispered.

"Willow," Katniss breathed, the word flowing softly from her lips. "We'll call her Willow…"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Finally, an update! Sorry for the delay, as I was out of town this weekend. But hooray for chapter 10! I'm pretty set on this story being 12 chapters long, but we'll see how things go. We still have another little one to read about, right?

But for this chapter, there is no time jump as I had been doing after each set of three chapters. I just didn't feel like I could have Katniss give birth and then just skip forward to when their daughter is older. Instead, I wanted to explore those first time parent feelings and to show how the birth of their first child strengthens Katniss and Peeta's relationship even more. So there's some fluff in this chapter, and lots of baby Willow. I haven't had much time to proof-read, so I apologize for any misspellings or grammatical mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

And as always, thanks to my loyal fans who continue to read week after week. Thanks for taking the time to explore this world with me. Thank you for the comments and feedback. I take the time to read everything that is posted, and, if possible, I respond. It just means so much to me that you have taken the time to post a comment. I truly appreciate it, so please, please read and review!

And most of all, enjoy!

* * *

Her mother stayed a month, which surprised Katniss. Mrs. Everdeen took up residence in her old room as if fifteen years hadn't gone by since she had lived in District Twelve. She was a great help to Katniss and Peeta, watching over tiny Willow so Peeta could work and Katniss could sleep.

Katniss had not felt so exhausted since her restless nights in the Hunger Games and Quarter Quell. Only this exhaustion wasn't the heart-pounding, anxiety-ridden sense of survival from those days. No, this exhaustion was inextricably linked with utter joy and wonder – hearing the cries of one's own child, caring for someone so helpless and precious.

Peeta was otherworldly, holding Willow. He seemed to glow, as if from within, cradling her small form in his strong arms, a smile spreading slowly across his features. He was like some hero of old, a true Victor of the Hunger Games in those moments – which was that closest thing their world had to ancient heroes. And Katniss knew exactly why and how she had fallen in love with him.

And so they fell in love all over again, with their daughter to seal the bond.

Katniss didn't think she could love someone so much. She had told herself she never wanted a family, never wanted to bring children into such a world as the one she grew up in. But actually having a baby changed all that. The love she felt for the infant was the purest she'd ever known. It was fierce, knowing that she would do anything – _anything_ – to protect Willow. It was deep, and she knew that no matter how much her daughter grew and changed, Katniss's love would still remain.

Peeta had stayed home from the bakery the first two weeks after Willow was born. The whole town, the whole earth could have fallen to pieces and he wouldn't have noticed, wouldn't have cared. When the infant wasn't feeding, she was sleeping in Peeta's arms. Katniss spent hours just watching him, his smile never fading as he held their child.

Mrs. Everdeen, along with Greasy Sae, helped cook and clean. Anabel and Marc and their troop of children came over the day after Willow was born. Each took their turn holding her, even Minnie, who was instructed to sit on the couch and hold the baby carefully. Minnie giggled, joyous and pure, when Willow opened her blue eyes and wrapped her tiny hand around the girl's finger. Anabel laughed over the crop of dark hair that decorated the infant's head.

"She's got your hair, and coloring," Anabel remarked, rocking Willow in her arms. "But she's got Peeta's eyes…"

Marc had congratulated Peeta with a quiet smile and a friendly pat on the back. Peeta's face had been filled with so much pride over his daughter, and he had nearly cried tears of joy. Tears like the ones he had shed moments after her birth.

And Katniss had been worried that she might slip into something of a spell, a low point, as her mother had after her husband's death. Or as she, herself had done after Prim's. She had seen her mother treat – or at least attempt to treat – women who gave birth and then entered a period of sorrow as if a loved one had died and not just been born. It didn't happen often, but it nonetheless remained at the back of Katniss's mind in the days and weeks shortly after Willow's entrance into the world.

But Katniss had known grief, and she felt none of it over her new gift of life. If anything, she was the happiest she had been in her entire life. Of course, there was a hungry and crying infant that needed constant attention, but Katniss had help. Peeta would bring Katniss the fussing infant and she would lift up her nightgown or unbutton her shirt, feeling the little mouth latch on hungrily.

Peeta would change diapers, scraping off the cloth with a determined grin, enjoying the task a little too much. Katniss would laugh at him from her perch in the rocking chair, and when he would bounce Willow in his arms, Katniss would doze off where she sat.

Daisy was never far away from the baby either. Katniss had been nervous at first to have the large dog near the infant, but Daisy was surprisingly gentle. She sniffed Willow happily the first time Peeta introduced them, Daisy wagging her tail. She would curl up at Peeta's feet as he cradled his daughter, and when Willow would cry, Daisy would look up in interest. She never seemed to mind the attention that had been taken away from her. In those first few weeks, Peeta made sure to take Daisy out and play often, and Haymitch would wander over to spend time with the dog as well.

"I just had to make sure that dog's training didn't go to waste…" He had explained brusquely. It was just a few days after Willow's birth.

Katniss was sitting on the couch, baby nestled in the crook of her arm. Haymitch eyed the infant, his arms folded across his chest. Katniss had just laughed under her breath and shook her head when he stomped off, Daisy following eagerly behind. Later, she overheard her former mentor talking to Peeta.

"Looks just like her mother," Haymitch was saying. "She's going to be a looker, son. But you'd better hope she doesn't have that same temper…"

Katniss almost bristled at those words, but she heard something akin to pride in Haymitch's voice, as if he were a doting grandfather. And she knew that he was proud of them, for surviving, for making it out of the games and the rebellion alive. But perhaps Haymitch was the proudest because Katniss and Peeta had found a life outside of being Victors, a life that was rather normal.

"When are you going to get back to hunting?" Haymitch had asked Katniss bluntly over dinner. "I'm ready for a wild turkey and not all this processed stuff…" He slurred. He hadn't been drunk when he first came over, playing fetch with Daisy for a solid hour out in the yard.

"I've got about five more weeks," Katniss answered. "The doctor said she doesn't want me out in the woods until I have my six week check up." Haymitch made a loud noise of disapproval and let his fork and knife clatter to his plate.

"That doctor…" He muttered, obviously not fond of Dr. Cavanaugh. Katniss was sure it had something to do with the woman from District Thirteen advising him to quit drinking after noticing his expanding paunch.

Both Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen gave Haymitch a look. Katniss knew that she had to be careful, more so now than ever before. In the past, she had had to support her mother and Prim, but this was different. There was another human being depending on her, yes, but Katniss's instinct to protect was keener now than ever. A hunting accident, a pack of wild dogs, exposure – there were dangers that she had put aside before, before she had a daughter to care for.

"Well, I think Dr. Cavanaugh is right," her mother spoke up, her tone a tad defensive. "I mean…"

Mrs. Everdeen was cut off by the sound of Willow crying. Katniss moved to stand, but her mother waved a hand at her and went to pick up the baby.

"I think she's hungry," her mother said a few moments later, and then Katniss did stand, taking the infant to the living room. The older woman wasn't far behind.

As Katniss arranged herself and Willow on the couch, using a shawl to cover herself during the feeding, her mother sat down beside her.

"Please don't ever let that man watch after your children," she said quietly, then laughed.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Katniss replied with a chuckle. She was happy to see her mother jest, and so she laughed again. She thin shifted Willow from one arm to the other.

"I remember when you and Prim were that little…" Mrs. Everdeen spoke in a wistful tone, a smile still playing at her lips.

There were more wrinkles around her mouth, at the corners of her eyes, and on her forehead than Katniss remembered. Her blonde hair was streaked with a fair amount of gray. But her eyes were bright, not dull or lifeless. And Katniss knew that her mother's work as a healer in District Four had been a way to start over, to continue living after Prim's death. But it was tiring work, and it showed.

"Cherish these moments, Katniss…" She nearly whispered. Katniss looked up from her tiny daughter and met her mother's gaze. "Before you know it, she'll be getting married and having children of her own." She added.

And the days did pass by more quickly. Marc and Theo nearly had to drag Peeta back to the bakery after two weeks. There were matters he, as the owner, could only deal with. There were cakes to be frosted – Edda was quite good at the overall technique, but only Peeta excelled at the intricate details. So Peeta went back to work, albeit reluctantly, nearly racing home every evening to be with Katniss and Willow. Mrs. Everdeen packed up her things and headed back to District Four after a month – all of the leave she had allowed herself to take from work as a healer.

At first, Katniss thought she would feel overwhelmed being at home, alone, with the baby. But she found it rather relaxing, spending those cold days of winter at home, sipping hot tea while Willow napped nearby. Daisy kept her company, curling up at Katniss's feet or peering over the edge of the bassinet when Willow made a sound. Anabel came over quite often when the weather was mild. She would chatter on about the children or Marc or news from town until she talked Katniss into a doze, the new mother nodding off on the end of the couch or in one of the high-backed armchairs. Katniss would wake some time later to find Anabel dancing about the living room, the baby cradled in her arms, or in the kitchen cleaning up from Katniss's attempt at breakfast.

And Peeta would be there, every evening, helping to prepare dinner or changing Willow. He wouldn't let their daughter out of his sight, and once the kitchen had been cleaned up from their nightly meal, the couple would sit together quietly on the couch, Katniss's head against Peeta's shoulder, his strong arms holding the infant. Something would stir inside of Katniss, and she would find herself humming the tune to a song her father had sung – sometimes a lullaby, and sometimes simply a song of the district. And then she would be singing the words, her voice soft, as she put little Willow to bed in her crib. Peeta would stand near her, transfixed, and Katniss wasn't sure if it was because of the song or the sight of their daughter. Perhaps it was both.

The day of her six-week appointment with Dr. Cavanaugh dawned bright and cold, the golden winter sun illuminating the thick snow banks. Peeta had taken off from the bakery to accompany Katniss and Willow to town, and the new mother was grateful. It was Willow's first trip out of doors. And so they bundled her up in layers, wrapping a thick blanket around her sleeping form, covering her round head with a woolen hat. Peeta carried her most of the way, walking carefully so as not to slip with the precious bundle in his arms. Katniss had only been out a few times to play fetch with Daisy or bring in more firewood since giving birth, and so the cold turned her cheeks red, made her breath puff out in front of her like miniscule clouds. But most of all, it made her worry about Willow, despite the warm blanket covering the baby.

So Katniss begged Peeta until he unbuttoned his thick, wool coat and tucked Willow inside, holding his arms around her and the garment. Peeta shook his head, but there was a smile playing on his features.

Dr. Cavanaughed "oohed" and "ahhed" appropriately over their daughter, praising the pair as she examined the baby. The young healer listened to Willow's heartbeat and lungs, pressed delicately on her belly, stroked the soles of her feet, shone a light into her eyes, and examined her toothless mouth.

"She's perfect," Dr. Cavanaugh concluded, swinging her stethoscope back over her shoulders before bending over the washbasin to clean her hands.

It was Katniss's turn next, and the healer pulled a privacy curtain around the examination table as Peeta held Willow. Dr. Cavanaugh repeated much of the exam she had done to the infant, flashing a light into Katniss's eyes, peering into her throat and mouth, listening to her heart and lungs, pressing gently on her belly. And then the young medic sat on a stool to examine down below. After giving birth, the pelvic exam wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as Katniss had remembered.

"Everything looks great, Mrs. Mellark," the doctor said with a smile as Katniss sat back up on the table, covering her legs with the clinic gown.

"Is she allowed to go out and hunt now?" Peeta asked as the healer opened the curtain. She stopped for a moment.

"'Allowed?'" Dr. Cavanaugh repeated with a laugh, looking from Peeta back to Katniss. "Well, I'm not going to tell her she _can't_ hunt." She laughed again as she pulled off her pair of gloves and tossed them in the trash.

"You can do what you like," the healer instructed Katniss in a gentler tone. "Just don't overdo it."

The first time Katniss ventured out into the forest since giving birth, she finally understood why it was so difficult for Peeta to leave Willow and go back to the bakery. Sae had offered to watch over the baby for a few hours, and so Katniss threw on some warm woolen trousers, pulled on her thick down coat, laced up her hunting boots, and then hesitated. She felt an ache in her chest, and it was not over grief or sorrow, but because there was someone so tiny and precious that needed her. She turned back toward the living room, where Sae sat on the couch near the bassinet.

"Go on, child," Sae waved Katniss off, shaking one of her knitting needles.

And so Katniss stepped out into the snow, her bow and quiver and pack strapped snuggly across her back. It was heavy, but comforting. Daisy pranced along beside her, happy to be out in the cool air.

The first squirrel, Katniss shot in the belly. Its pump body fell to the snow without much of a thud and Daisy dutifully retrieved it, the arrow jutting out like some macabre stick to be fetched. Katniss and Daisy then startled a few grouse, which flew off through the trees in a tangle of feathers and branches. Katniss shot at the birds but missed, and Daisy barked as the frightened animals fled. Katniss knew she'd have to train the dog to point, but she wasn't quite sure how. She figured it might be covered in one of the many books Peeta had brought home from the Capitol.

She shot a large hare and a few more squirrels as she made her way back to the Victor's Village. At a month and a half old, Willow had progressed from feeding every two hours to about every four. But Katniss still couldn't bear be apart from her daughter for long. She enjoyed the deep cold of the winter, the feel of her cheeks turning red, the sound of her boots crunching softly in the snow. She was at home in the woods, the bow a mere extension of her arm – though she could do with some target practice before her next hunt. But there was something in her life now that was more important than treks into the forest, more important than filling her day with mundane tasks until Peeta returned from the bakery. And that was raising her daughter.

When Katniss returned home, her pack heavier, Daisy trotting happily beside her, she found Peeta sitting on the couch holding their baby in his arms. Greasy Sae had been cleaning the kitchen, and hadn't said a word about Peeta's arrival.

"I took the rest of the day off," he explained as Katniss unlaced her hunting boots. She had already handed the game over to Sae, who looked rather pleased.

"I just wanted to be here, with her," Peeta continued, looking down dotingly on his daughter.

And seeing him there, Katniss felt the ache in her chest transform into something altogether wondrous, filling her to the core until it was all too much and she felt as if she would burst.

She let out a long breath and sat beside Peeta, gently taking Willow from his arms. He seemed as if he would protest, but she had pulled off her thick sweater and began to unbutton her shirt to feed their daughter. Peeta watched her, and where once it might have unnerved her, she actually didn't mind him staring. She saw the sense of wonder on his features and she prayed that it would never go away. And she knew that with all the years of growing and new discoveries to come, it would be some time before that awe ever diminished.

Peeta was quiet as Katniss breastfed Willow, as if in silent reverence. Katniss shifted the baby from left to right, feeling her own sense of relief as the strain of her milk was eased. One of Willow's tiny hands had escaped the blanket that was wrapped tightly around her, and Katniss reveled in the feel of her daughter's soft skin against her own.

"She's amazing…" Peeta said softly, breaking the silence. Katniss met his gaze, her mind still focused on the little fingers that were pressed against her breast.

"Mhmm, she is…" Katniss agreed, looking back down at Willow.

"This, _this_ is what I've been waiting for – hoping for," Peeta continued, "My whole life…"

Katniss placed the infant on her shoulder and began to pat the baby's back gently, burping her. She looked at Peeta, whose eyes were a familiar shade of blue. The same dazzling blue shared by their daughter.

Peeta stood when Katniss rose to slip Willow back into the bassinet, and the couple then repositioned themselves on the couch. A quick glance into the kitchen indicated that Greasy Sae had left some time ago. Katniss then turned to face Peeta, who was grinning happily.

"This, everything…" He said, his voice steady and his hand strong as he laced his fingers in hers. "It's what I've wanted for so long…And I'm just lucky I get to share it with _you_, Katniss…"

And the feeling from earlier, the feeling that rose up to bursting inside of her finally did. There were tears in her eyes as she kissed Peeta full on the mouth. It was not a sweet peck on the lips or even a tender, loving kiss, but rather a crashing together of mouths and teeth that was passionate and yearning. Peeta was startled at first, but then responded with fervor, his hands moving up to grip her shoulders. Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

They hadn't been physically intimate in months, the last weeks of her pregnancy leaving her tired and sore and too exhausted for anything more than a kiss goodnight. And then Dr. Cavanaugh had advised them to wait six weeks after the birth of their baby to have any "relations." Katniss's ears had burned, and she prayed that her cheeks didn't turn red at that particular instruction. Once Willow was born, though, there had been more pressing matters than "relations" between a man and a woman.

But what Katniss began with that fervent kiss, she knew she had to finish. It was as if a knot were tied inside of her, a knot that had to be loosed.

Katniss had left her shirt unbuttoned, so in the midst of their heated kisses, Peeta made short work of the garment, sliding the long sleeves back over her shoulders and down her arms. They parted long enough for Peeta to pull his own shirt up and over his head. She laid back against the couch and breathed a contented sigh at the feel of the solid curve of his chest, the hard plane of his abdomen against hers.

And where she wanted to hurry, her fingers slipping clumsily on his belt buckle, he moved more slowly, trailing delicate kisses down her neck, marking out complicated patterns with his fingers and lips and tongue on her skin.

After, the light from the fire ablaze in the hearth dancing across their naked forms, Peeta slowly brushed away the tears from Katniss's face. His thumbs made lazy circles on the curve of her cheeks and he bent to kiss each freckle there.

Katniss caught his gaze when he pulled back up, and for a moment she thought he would press his lips to hers to ignite their passion once more. And something did flutter in her belly, such that she was somewhat disappointed when he made no move except to merely gaze back down at her.

"I love you," she said before he had the chance to speak. And it was as if she finally understood the meaning behind those words, rather than just the feeling.

Katniss thought Peeta would say something in return, but instead, he broke out into a sly smile and moved to kiss her, their lips meeting passionately once more.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** More family fun in this chapter! Little Willow is growing, so again, no time jump in this chapter as I couldn't pass up exploring the family and all the changes that come with a baby.

And I'm SO glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter. I kind of felt 'blah' about it until I went back a re-read it, and it actually is a chapter I'm really proud of. So thank you to all of those who reviewed. I hope you find this chapter just as beautiful.

And about the length of this story, I doubt now that I will stop at 12 chapters. That said, if I write the next chapter and feel like I get to a cohesive end point, I MAY stop there. But right now I truly doubt it. So at this point, I am thinking 14-15 chapters. I still have a little baby boy to write about, right?

Anyway, thanks continually to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are amazing! AMAZING. I apologize if there are spelling/grammatical errors in this chapter as it is late (or early by some standards) when I'm posting it and don't feel like proofreading anymore. That said, hope you all enjoy. And as always, please please please leave comments/feedback as you feel inclined to do so.

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Willow grew and grew until Katniss thought she'd never stop growing. Like her name, she started out as a tiny shoot – something fragile that needed tender care – and then became a more sturdy sapling. Her dark hair changed from the soft down of a newborn to thick, long waves like her mother's. She learned to hold herself up, sit up, and then crawl, all to the amazement of her parents.

To Katniss, it seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. To Peeta – busy at the bakery most days – it seemed to happen even faster. Katniss now truly understood all the stories Marc and Anabel would tell about their own children, how excited they would be when one discovered some new physical feat, and how delighted the couple was to share the happy event. Katniss was sure Marc and Rye, Edda and Theo were probably tired of hearing Peeta brag on little Willow every day, but she found herself doing the same on phone calls to her mother or afternoons she spent with Anabel or Leevy.

And the other mothers understood, Anabel exclaiming her praise loudly and with a laugh, Leevy smiling and nodding quietly. Katniss had spent countless hours listening to Anabel gush over her children or fuss about their misbehavior. And Katniss had also witnessed plenty of it firsthand.

But she was glad to have a friend like Anabel, who gladly watched after Willow on days Katniss spent in the woods. Sae looked after her every once in a while, but with her advancing age, Katniss didn't want to put such a burden on the lady too often.

And Katniss didn't spend every day off hunting. Not when one of the wonders of the universe – an often smelly and fussy wonder, that is – was living under her roof. Not when the love of her life – well, one of the loves of her life – needed to be held and fed and comforted.

Katniss had thought on many occasions that she would be a terrible mother, that she would view a child like a pet Prim brought home – another mouth to feed. But all the misgivings and doubt that had swirled around in her head during her two pregnancies had all been erased the moment that Willow was born.

And if the world had not seemed to change once the rebellion was over and a new government was in place, it had undeniably changed when Willow was born.

Peeta loved his work at the bakery, enjoyed being able to bake and create new breads and treats and see the townsfolk on a daily basis. But Katniss saw the twinge of disappointment in his eyes when he would come home to learn that he had not been there to see some new accomplishment for the first time. He would be delighted to see a repeat act, Willow sitting up for the first time or rolling from right to left, and so he would forget his frustration for a time. And there were plenty of days where he was at home, sittig on the floor on a spread out blanket, a roaring fire fighting off the last of winter's chill. Willow would be on the blanket with him, pushing herself up on her forearms for the first time, looking about at her surroundings like a curious explorer. Daisy would lay on the wooden floor as well, her head propped on her front legs, her tail thumping happily at any movement from Peeta or Willow.

And Peeta would try to sing to his daughter, his voice coming out a bit harsh at first, his cadence off as he tried to remember all the words. But if Katniss wasn't upstairs in the nursery cleaning or off outside, she would smile and chime in, her voice resonating pure and clear. Willow's eyes would grow wide at the familiar sound of her mother's voice, and a smile would cross her chubby face. And Peeta would scoop his daughter up off the blanket and rock her to sleep in his arms as he continued to sing slightly off-key.

Katniss would fold her arms over her chest and send him a smirk sometimes.

"What...?" He would whisper as he stopped rocking the baby.

"Don't try to steal my job now..." She would warn in a teasing tone as she gathered up Willow from his arms and slipped her into the crib or bassinet.

"Hey, your father sang to you..." Peeta would protest quietly, and Katniss's heart would hurt for a moment.

And it did hurt, to realize that Willow would never know her biological grandparents, except for Katniss's mother. The child would never know her aunt or uncles either. But then Katniss would pull down the book of memories and flip through its thick pages pasted with photos and drawings, the infant cradled in the crook of one arm. She would promise herself that her child would know that book and the people in it like other children knew the characters in fairy stories – princesses and princes, knights and magic spells, dragons and treasure. Except there were no happy endings for the real life folks, only their memorization by those who loved them.

True, Willow would never meet Peeta's family or most of Katniss's family in person. But there was a multitude of surrogate family members in her life. There was Aunt Anabel and Uncle Marc and cousins Rye, Adelaide, and Minnie. There was Uncle Thom and Aunt Leevy, cousin Tommy and Uncle Levan. And of course, Papa Haymitch. Katniss had already decided on that one, some night when Haymitch was on an intoxicated rant about children or geese or both. No one called Haymitch by anything other than his name – to his face at least – but Katniss was determine to add the "papa" in there as soon as Willow started to speak.

And as the seasons changed, so did their daughter. Winter passed by so quickly that Katniss barely had time to appreciate the heavy snowfall before it began to melt and give way to spring. The days grew warm and Willow was sitting up, her chubby legs stretched out as she surveyed the area around her. Katniss had to be more careful about what was left out. Paints and paintbrushes that Peeta used had to be kept far out of the baby's reach. Plants and flowers had to be moved to high counters or cabinets. Willow began to crawl, and it delighted Katniss to see Peeta get on all fours and follow right behind his daughter. They smiled and laughed, and Willow smiled and laughed right along with them. But Katniss had to be even more mindful of how their house was set up. She would leave the baby on a blanket in the living room and step into the kitchen for only a moment, then return to find books pulled off of the bookshelf, picture frames overturned or broken, the telephone headset hanging suspended from its cord. Daisy would sit by, whining occasionally as some loud noise signaled Willow's path of destruction. Katniss would hurry back into the room and scoop up her daughter, then clean up the clutter.

She could have complained to Peeta, fussed about the ruined pots or vases, the pile of books or overturned photos, but she didn't. Willow had pulled herself up to standing, and once Katniss knew her daughter was unharmed, she was excited about her new development.

And when the spring weather grew mild, Katniss took Willow out on treks, Daisy plodding happily alongside them. They had adventures in the expansive backyard, Willow crawling about, determined to uproot every shoot of grass. The sun was warm and Katniss would spread out a large blanket and keep a close eye as Willow discovered the world. There were snacks, and feedings of course, and Katniss would cover herself with a shawl in the cool breeze. Daisy would sniff about the lawn or beg to play fetch, dropping a stick or a ball right in Katniss's lap – when it wasn't otherwise occupied by Willow. There were always new flowers blooming, and Katniss would tell her daughter the name of each one, which ones could be eaten and which ones to avoid as the tiny girl ripped petals from stem.

"That's a dandelion," Katniss explained one day in late spring. The sun was warm where they sat, the shadows from the nearby trees diminished at noon.

Willow moved to put the whole yellow blossom in her mouth, but Katniss gently stayed her hand. Willow made a noise of protest, but then her mother held up a handful of the bright flowers and the baby's blue eyes were transfixed by the sight. She made some gurgling sounds of delight, patting her arms up and down as Katniss smiled.

And when it was the middle of the summer, hot a muggy during the middle of the day, Katniss and Peeta took Willow to the lake. They had been remiss, and it was the first year in a long time that they had not picked blueberries by the lakeshore. But they had had a growing child to occupy their time. Katniss had turned thirty-three without so much as a second thought. She felt young and old at the same time, having a daughter. And Peeta seemed more boyish than ever, his youthfulness reinvigorated with the addition to their family. He suddenly seemed more spry, often laying on the floor or clambering about on his hands and knees. Katniss didn't see him rubbing his left leg as much or hear him complain about his prosthesis. Or maybe that was just because he took better care of the artificial limb now, making regularly scheduled visits to the Capitol every three years for a new fit. Or sooner if there were problems.

It had been Peeta's idea to spend a day beside the lake. So on his day off from the bakery, he helped Katniss pack up plenty of food and water, clean cloths and pins for diapers, a blanket and plenty of toys to take into the forest. Peeta offered to carry Willow, and so Katniss slung the pack over her shoulder and realized that Peeta had gotten the better end of the deal, as their daughter weighed much less than the stuffed sack. Katniss didn't protest, though, but just followed after her husband, a wry smile playing on her features.

Daisy trotted close by, pausing every so often to let Katniss and Peeta catch up. Willow was asleep in Peeta's arms, and Katniss watched her sleep, her cheeks pink from the heat, her dark hair stuck to her head. They reached the lake after what seemed like a lifetime, and Katniss began to unload the bag, spreading out the blanket along the flat rock shelf. She pulled off her tunic and pants – she was wearing her swimming suit underneath – and bundled up the clothes as a cushion for Willow. Peeta set their slumbering child down on the garments, smoothing back her dark locks from her forehead. It was such a tender, loving gesture, and Katniss rested her hand on Peeta's arm. When he turned to look from his daughter to Katniss, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his brow.

"I'm going for a dip," she announced, standing quickly and making her way carefully along the rocky shore. Daisy was already paddling around the lake happily.

Katniss didn't dive in. She didn't scale one of the boulders near the edge of the lake and plunge into the depths. She merely walked in, the cool water coming up to her ankles, then her knees, then her thighs until she pushed off and swam, her arms stretched out in front of her. She did a flip underwater and then surfaced for a breath. She made sure Peeta and Willow were fine before she let herself float on the top of the water, feeling weightless.

When Willow woke, she was hungry, and so Katniss climbed out of the lake and took up a spot on the blanket. The baby was unsure about being held by her soaking wet mother, but hunger won out. Peeta scrounged around in the pack and found an apple to eat while their daughter nursed.

Katniss was hesitant at first, a fear taking hold of her core as if there were an arrow through her belly, but finally she agreed. And so Peeta took Willow down to the edge of the lake. Katniss resisted calling out to him as he made his way deeper and deeper into the water as she had done, except with the baby in his arms. But she trusted his strong grip, and she remembered her own father teaching her how to swim. No child of hers would ever fear the water, and so she let Peeta trudge slowly until Willow made a few noises of surprise at the feel of the cool lake on her skin.

And once she got used to it, there was happy babbling and energetic splashes. Peeta kept a strong hold on Willow as she squealed with delight at the new discovery. And Katniss wasn't surprised. As much as the infant loved her baths at home, it was no wonder that she enjoyed the lake.

Peeta returned to the blanket a few minutes later and wrapped Willow in a thick towel. Daisy came near, her long fur dripping, and they scolded her twice before she trotted a few feet away to shake off. They still felt some of the spray, and Katniss gave the dog a look of warning before bursting into laughter. Willow pushed herself up out of the towel and began scooting toward Daisy.

"Go swim if you like," Katniss urged Peeta. "I'll watch her." She offered, nodding toward the infant.

"No," Peeta replied with a smile, shaking his head. "I'd rather just sit here, with you two…" He reached out and his fingers found hers.

Daisy lay quietly, unfazed as Willow propped herself up on the dog and began patting the animal rather vigorously.

It was early one morning – there was no sleeping in with a little one to care for – in late summer when Willow said her first words. She had made all sorts of incomprehensible sounds and noises for months, but her true words came later. Peeta had already left for the bakery, and Katniss was in the kitchen with Willow, who was propped up in a wooden high chair at the table. Katniss turned to give the baby some mashed peaches, setting down the bowl in front of her.

"Mama," the infant said as Katniss was just about to turn back toward the sink. But she whirled back toward Willow.

"Mama," Willow said again, the word coming out not as senseless babble, but as something she had named.

"What did you say?" Katniss asked, still in a state of surprise. Willow looked up at her mother, her blue eyes wide, a grin on her face.

"Mama!" She shouted, not looking at the bright orange peaches near her, but up at Katniss.

Katniss laughed, pulling the infant from her chair and swinging her around enthusiastically. Willow squealed in delight.

"Yes, I'm 'mama,'" Katniss said, holding Willow with one arm and pointing at her own chest.

"Willow," she spoke slowly, pointing back toward the baby. Willow looked down at her mother's finger. "Mama," Katniss said, tapping her finger back against her chest.

And then she repeated the charade, this time with Willow's plump arm making the proper designations as Katniss spoke the words.

"Mama," Willow repeated, her sticky hand pressed against Katniss's breast.

"Mama," she said again as Katniss moved the infant's hand toward her own chubby torso.

"No," Katniss laughed, "I'm Mama. You're Willow." The infant looked perplexed for a moment, her tiny brow angled down in confusion, as if she were struggling to understand or perhaps just messing in her diaper.

After half an hour of trying, she had "mama" down and could manage "weewo" and "dayday" for Willow and Daisy. Katniss resisted the urge to phone the bakery and tell Peeta, but it was still morning. She could wait and let it be a surprise for after work rather than have him speed home and forego an entire day at the bakery. So she sat Willow back in the chair and let her enjoy the mashed peaches, Daisy sitting nearby, hoping the baby would drop some for her.

And it didn't take long before Willow was saying "dada" for Peeta. He came in from the bakery, a few loaves of bread tucked under his arm, and Katniss met him in the kitchen. He nearly dropped the bread – which would have made Daisy a very happy dog – when Katniss prompted Willow to speak.

"Dada," Katniss said loudly, looking down at Willow in her arms as she indicated toward Peeta. "Dada," she repeated again, slowly.

Willow looked up, her smile wide at the appearance of her father, her legs kicking joyously against Katniss's hip.

"Dada!" She nearly screeched, her tiny mouth open with delight. And she nearly jumped from Katniss's arms, flinging her body toward her father.

Peeta caught her just in time, Katniss catching the loaves of bread mid-descent – to the disappointment of Daisy. Willow squealed out "dada" again, and Peeta let out a deep, mirthful laugh.

When Willow began to walk, Katniss had to do even more rearranging of the house. It was late summer or early fall depending on who was asked, a few months shy of Willlow's first birthday. It was a day Peeta had taken off from work, and he was painting in the study while Katniss was off in the woods. Katniss had insisted he call Sae over to watch Willow more closely, and the older woman was in the living with the child. When she called out for Peeta to "come quick," he feared the worst, dropping his paintbrush and nearly tripping as he ran from the study.

But the few seconds it took for him to survey the scene, he knew there was no cause for true alarm, but rather celebration. Sae was crouched over the child, but Willow was taking wobbly steps all on her own, her feet finding their place on the wooden floor in front of the couch.

Peeta laughed happily and walked closer, stopping a few feet from Willow. He held out his arms and encouraged her to toddle toward him. And she did so, nearly falling into his legs as she tripped on her last step.

And for once, Peeta had some new accomplishment of Willow's to show Katniss, instead of it being the other way 'round.

Katniss wished that she could stop time, hold the clock still so that Willow would remain their baby forever. But Katniss knew that such a wish was impractical. And Willow _would_ always be their child, no matter how big she grew.

Dinner with friends was even livelier once Willow could walk and run with the other children. Marc and Anabel brought their brood over every so often, and even more frequently if Anabel was watching after Willow while Katniss was out. Thom and Leevy and little Tommy came to the Victor's Village every few months as well, Levan joining them if he wasn't working a late shift at the factory. He was twenty-four now, which was difficult for Katniss to believe. What was even _more_ difficult to believe, though, was that at that age, she had already been married five years. When she had been sixteen, seventeen years old facing the games, she had felt so mature. But that had been a lifetime ago – truly, half her life. And she had been such a confused – and fickle – child. Oh, the lessons she had learned since then…

And she was no longer such a loner. She had grown to enjoy the time spent with people who were dear to her – the chatterbox Anabel and her quiet husband, their gaggle of children all with their own unique personalities. Reserved Leevy and brave Thom, a pair from the Seam who – had the world not tilted too far on its axis – would be stuck deep in the mines, perhaps on different shifts, never talking other than to say hello. Little Tommy, who wouldn't be little forever and who might very well grow up to be a politician like his father. Handsome Levan who could have any girl he wanted, but loved the one forever out of reach. And there was Old Sae – Greasy Sae – more named for her cooking than for her looks, who still wandered into the Victor's Village some days to cook and clean for Katniss, and watch after Willow. Haymitch, who still drowned his sorrows in booze more often than he should, who spoke his mind and cared far more than he let on.

They were all more than friends to Katniss and Peeta. They were family, even though there weren't framed photos of them on the mantle. Katniss didn't need photos, she saw enough of them as it were.

But there were still many days where Katniss longed for the quiet of the forest, longed to escape from civilization for a while. The tug of the woods had diminished once Willow was born, but it had not completely faded away. She would gather her bow and quiver of arrows, stuff her pack with water and food, lace up her boots and head under the canopy of great oaks and pine, cedars and fir. She still hadn't trained Daisy to point, but the dog kept close by, dutifully retrieving the game that was shot. And it made Katniss smile when she took a rest on the ridge overlooking the valley – Daisy sitting beside her – to think that she had shared that same spot with Gale Hawthorne half her life ago.

"You don't tease me like he did, though…" She said, Daisy's golden ears perking up at the sound of her master's voice. Katniss laughed and shook her head, reaching over to pet the silent animal.

And perhaps Gale had found some girl in District Two. Perhaps they had married, even started a family of dark-haired, gray-eyed sons and daughters. Katniss hadn't seen or heard anything about him since the television news cast nearly eight years ago, when the factory had first opened. After her wedding, she and Hazel had kept up correspondence for five or six years, but that had fizzled out when Katniss stopped responding. Last she had heard, Rory was working alongside Gale. Perhaps Hazel's second-born was married, and then it hit Katniss that all of the Hawthorne children were old enough to be married with children by now.

Katniss patted Daisy's head again, then gathered up her things and stood. The quiet of the woods soothed her soul, but sometimes it was _too_ quiet, and her mind wandered off where it shouldn't.

She wondered about the others sometimes too – Johanna Mason, Effie Trinket, Beetee, Cressida and Pollux, even Delly Cartwright. A few, she had heard from. Delly still wrote to Peeta on occasion, though the couple hadn't seen her since their wedding. Effie was running a successful wedding planning business in the Capitol, and Peeta often had tea or lunch with her on his trips there for work or limb fittings. Katniss preferred avoiding the television, but every so often she would catch some documentary or news story Peeta was watching that had been directed by Cressida. Johanna – she hadn't come to Katniss and Peeta's wedding – and so Katniss could only assume that the headstrong victor had moved back to District Seven. She hoped Johanna had found peace there, as she had back in Twelve.

And the peace Katniss found had impossibly blue eyes and a generous smile, and was handsome despite all his scars.

He had become her hope, her joy. And he had given her even more hope and joy in the form of their daughter. All of the past hurt and anger she felt over her father's death, the games, even Prim's untimely end – all of that had been diminished in the fullness of his love.

And Peeta had grown as well. He had grown from the courageous boy plagued with self-doubt to a strong and caring father. He wore the scars the marred his once-perfect skin with pride, knowing they did not diminish who he was but rather added character – and intrigue. Katniss would tease him sometimes, telling him she was just glad his eyebrows had grown back in. But she wore the same scars he did, and she knew they were great conversation starters, curious children asking their parents who shushed them in public but had to explain in private. And Katniss prayed that all _would_ be explained – the games, the rebellion – so that future generations would understand, and hopefully not follow the same path.

Katniss knew in time that Willow would ask those same questions. She was too young for now, but that didn't stop Katniss or Peeta reading to her from their book of memories, telling wild stories about those loved ones captured on those pages, threading together the tales with laughter and tears, sorrow and joy.

And some nights they would put Willow to bed – for she had graduated from a crib to a twin – and retreat back downstairs to the couch where the book of memories lay open and waiting. They would brush the pages with reverence, the photos and sketches that adorned the sheets sacred, the words written there stained with tears.

"Do you remember…?" One of them would ask, and it reminded Katniss of a different game of questions they had played years earlier.

And sometimes it was all too much, and Katniss would close the book and bury her head in Peeta's warm chest, her quiet sobs muffled in the soft fabric of his shirt. He would hold her tight, rocking her gently, planting soothing kisses on the top of her head. But sometimes Peeta would cry as well, and their tears would mingle together. Katniss's sobs would dwindle into sniffles, and she would inhale slowly, her cheek pressed against his chest. She would listen to the steady beating of his heart until he too relaxed. And she would pull away just enough so that she could lock gazes with him. Just enough so that she could move to kiss him, his lips tasting of water and salt.

They would find comfort in each other, even after all these years, each kiss on his lips an assurance that sorrow was not the end of all things.

And there were still times were Peeta's face contorted in pain, his hands gripping the back of a chair or a counter as if he were trying to tear it in two. Katniss would whisk Willow away quickly, ensuring her daughter's safety before attending to Peeta. And it all confused the child, and she might cry, but Katniss would whisper to her and place a kiss on her brow and then turn to Peeta.

His demons didn't take hold often, but it was bad when they did. And Katniss felt split in two, keeping one eye on her daughter while trying to calm Peeta. She would run her hands over his taught arms, his veins popping with the strain, a wild look in his eyes. Sweat would bead up on his forehead, his blond hair sticking to his skin, and she would brush it out of the way, her hands always gentle.

She found that singing was the best solution, as it calmed both Willow and Peeta. Katniss sang as long as it took, sometimes repeating the verses four or five times before Peeta's grip slackened and he seemed to relax. He would fall forward and she would attempt to catch him, the weight of him pulling her down as well. She didn't mind, so long as Willow was out of the way, tucked in her bassinet or sitting on the couch when she was older. And he would draw in ragged breaths, his skin hot and slick with perspiration, his eyes dark and clouded.

Occasionally Katniss was lucky, and Sae was over watching Willow when something of the sort happened. The older woman would take the child into the living room or upstairs while Katniss dealt with Peeta. During one such episode, Katniss was especially glad Sae had taken Willow into the other room as she found herself pinned under Peeta after he had crumpled to the kitchen floor. She wasn't injured, but she had lost her footing when he fell and so couldn't keep herself upright.

Peeta was shaky and rather confused once he recovered.

"What happened…?" He managed, his voice raspy. He pushed himself up off of Katniss.

"You had an attack, and then you fell. I was trying to keep you from hitting your head," she explained as she sat up.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Katniss, I – " He began, rubbing the back of his head.

"It's ok," she cut him off, placing her hand on his arm. He blinked a few times before speaking again.

"And Willow…?" He asked, looking around the kitchen.

"She's fine. Sae has her." Katniss replied, her voice soft.

Peeta pulled his legs underneath him and buried his face in his hands. Each episode, it seemed to take him longer to recover, and that worried Katniss. She scooted closer to him and pulled his hands away from his face. She reached back up to stroke his cheek, his jaw.

"How can you love me like this, so broken…?" He asked. The words came out so faint that only the look on his face confirmed that he had truly spoken them.

Katniss could have laughed, it was such an absurd question. She tried to not let it hurt that after all these years he still had to ask.

But she didn't laugh. She leaned close, her face barely an inch from his.

"_I'm_ broken too…" She whispered, closing the distance between them.

He didn't return the kiss at first. But his lips were still soft and pliable, and so Katniss moved her mouth against his until she felt his warm hands settle on her waist and his lips press back with fervor. He was slow in the aftermath of the episode, but perhaps even sweeter, his fingers roaming the contours of her body as they fell to the floor once more, this time with her on top.

Willow was three and a half years old when Peeta began begging for another child. And Katniss figured it was about time, what with Willow a year and a half from starting school. Her ovaries weren't getting any younger, either.

Besides, there was plenty of fun to be had in actually getting with child, Katniss mused, a sly smile spreading across her features.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** So here is chapter 12, finally. Sorry guys I didn't update sooner but I've been super busy this week with work and doctors appointments and occupational therapy and physical therapy and such. I don't recommend getting in car wrecks, ever.

Anyway, this chapter has some fluff as Katniss and Peeta try for baby number 2, but no outright smut or lemon type stuff. Sorry to disappoint, but I just can't bring myself to write that graphically in these stories. There is something almost sacred to them, so I'd rather hint around at things rather than go into all the gory details, hehe. But hey, maybe spin off one-shots with *ahem* more detailed *ahem* encounters? I don't know.

And thank you thank you thank you x 1000 for all the lovely reviews and all of you who read my stories and keep up with my work. It means SO much, and I couldn't have written all of this without everyone. So again, thank you. And keep on commenting/reviewing, and of course reading!

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Katniss was six months pregnant when she shot the deer. It was a young buck, his antlers barely sprouted and still covered in soft velvet. But it was a hearty animal, and would make for some choice meals in the wintertime.

Daisy had startled the animal, Katniss too pregnant to climb to her normal perch in a tree. The buck had run out of the underbrush fairly close by, too young to be scared of humans yet. It had darted to the left and Katniss loosed the arrow she had swiftly drawn, the large animal collapsing to the ground.

Now her dilemma was getting the deer back home.

She was lucky that she had set a few snares near by, and so she untied the taut string and wire and began gathering large branches. Daisy pranced back and forth around the kill, her tongue lolling out happily. Despite her protruding belly, Katniss squatted down and arranged the branches, tying them tightly together to make a crude pallet that could be dragged through the forest.

She pushed the heavy animal onto the makeshift sled, praying that she didn't go into labor, and used the little bit of sturdy rope she had in her pack to fashion a harness around Daisy. Katniss might have been forced to butcher the deer right there in the wilderness, leaving much of it behind had Daisy not been so strong. The dog dutifully pulled the dead animal, Katniss walking ahead and clearing away fallen branches and rocks that would have gotten in the way. Of course if it had been winter and snow had been covering the ground, the haul would have been much easier. Still, they made it back to the clearing near the Victor's Village after quite some time, Katniss glad that it was early spring and still quite cool.

She sat on the back step for nearly an hour, panting heavily – Katniss, not Daisy. She had already shed her father's hunting jacket while moving the deer in the woods, and then had pulled off her flannel shirt sometime later. So she sat there in just her cotton undershirt and pants, her long hair piled on top of her head in a braid, her hands clutching her round belly. The baby was kicking furiously now, and Katniss didn't know if he or she was happy or aggravated from all the strenuous activity. The golden retriever sat beside her, looking off across the yard as if the game did not exist.

Haymitch came striding over at some point, his walk slow and stiff. He was in his early sixties now, and age had not been kind to him. Katniss figured the alcohol hadn't helped either.

"What in the hell, girl?" He asked, issuing a string of profanities as he took stock of the buck. Daisy had started thumping her tail at the sight of Haymitch, but ducked her head when he raised his voice.

"It's a _deer_, Haymitch," Katniss answered slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She pushed herself off the back step and stood.

"You mean to tell me you shot this thing and lugged it all the way back here, by _yourself_?" He asked incredulously, his hands on his hips.

"No…" Katniss replied. Haymitch furrowed his brow. "Daisy pulled it back." She added quickly, turning and entering the kitchen, her former mentor on her heels.

"Oh, so you made the poor dog carry that huge thing…" Haymitch muttered.

But Daisy was lapping water from her bowl thirstily, not looking too worse for wear. The buck had been small, probably only eighty or a hundred pounds at most. Katniss opened a drawer and pulled out the knives she used for cleaning game, heading back outside.

"You won't be saying that when you're enjoying deer steak…" Katniss retorted, wielding one of the large knives.

And Haymitch didn't protest, but was silent as she skinned and gutted the deer, wrapping the meat to be smoked or frozen. She made a pile of all the waste parts, slicing bits off and tossing them toward Daisy.

"I just came over to check on you…" Haymitch admitted, somewhat under his breath. A younger Haymitch would never have made such a confession unless booze or money were involved. Katniss turned back from the bloodied mess of the buck to the older man, her eyes betraying her surprise.

"That husband of yours practically begged me, since you were going to be out traipsing around in the woods all big and…and…" Haymitch looked as if he were having trouble coming up with the right word. "And _expecting_," he finally said, and Katniss resisted the urge to burst into laughter.

But Katniss contained herself, wiping her sweaty forehead on the back of her hand. Her thin cotton undershirt was covered in blood. Haymitch was quiet, and Katniss reflexively grabbed her stomach and exchanged a look of understanding with her former mentor.

She had finally cleaned up the mess she had made of the deer, storing all of the meat in her kitchen and changing her shirt, when Anabel returned with Willow. Peeta was working, as usual, and so on the days Katniss went hunting or trapping, four-year-old Willow stayed with Anabel. During the week, Rye, Adelaide, and Minnie were all in school, but on the weekends and during holidays, the two girls played with Katniss's daughter. Rye – at seventeen – was a year shy of finishing school and working full-time in the bakery. For now, he spent his afternoons and weekends helping Peeta and Marc.

"Papa Haymitch!" Willow yelled, pulling away from Anabel's grasp and running toward the older man who was seated on the back step.

Haymitch stood more slowly than Katniss remembered and let out a hoarse laugh as the little girl flung herself into his knees for a hug, nearly knocking him over. Katniss greeted Anabel with a wave.

"Perfect timing," Katniss commented in a low tone. "I just cleaned the deer I shot this morning…"

"A deer?" Anabel nearly shouted, then covered her mouth quickly.

Katniss had only recently started teaching Willow about shooting and hunting, and the four-year-old's first jaunt in the woods had ended in tears. Katniss prayed that it was just age and not timidity, or sensitivity – like Prim. But if Willow ended up like Prim, Katniss wouldn't complain. Her daughter had been curious about the bow and arrows ever since she could walk. Katniss stored the weapon high up out of the girl's reach, but Willow had begged and begged until Katniss relented and Peeta ordered her a tiny child's bow, the arrows with soft spongy material on the ends.

But Willow hadn't heard of the deer's demise, she was busy telling Papa Haymitch all about her day. He was hardly ever grumpy around the child, only when he was drunk, and that tended to only happen when Willow had already been put to bed. Having a family and children would have been good for Haymitch, Katniss mused. But at least he had a surrogate family now – even though that had probably caused his crop of dark hair to turn gray.

They all filed into the house, Katniss offering to put on a kettle for Anabel and Haymitch. Willow ran off to find Daisy, and Haymitch made some teasing remark about how "domestic" Katniss's offer of tea was. But he sat down at the kitchen table anyway, and Anabel steered Katniss to a chair as well, fussing about how Katniss had already done enough for that day.

Willow came running back into the kitchen a moment later, squealing, Daisy at her heels.

Katniss, Peeta, and Willow feasted on venison for the next few weeks, Haymitch and the rest of their friends joining them.

Peeta just shook his head when he realized that Katniss had managed the deer with only Daisy for help. She lacked the sense of fear she had when she was pregnant with Willow. When she had been six months pregnant with their daughter, she wouldn't have strayed far from the house unless it was a walk to town to see Peeta. She had been overly cautious, worried that her second pregnancy would end like the first. But now, perhaps, she was making up for that. She was fearless, and adapting to this pregnancy as if it were absolutely normal to have something small and growing inside of her.

It had been the spring of Katniss's thirty-sixth birthday when they decided to try for another baby. They were late when it came to child rearing – compared to many of their friends and acquaintances. Marc and Anabel's youngest was eight years old, and little Tommy wasn't so little at seven. And Edda and Theo were in their late forties and seemed to enjoy their childless state. Katniss had been married to Peeta thirteen years before Willow was born, and so she could understand the delight there was in sharing life with a partner without the responsibility of children. But Katniss wouldn't trade the utter joy that Willow brought to her life for anything.

Though with a three year old, it was difficult to actually find a span of time alone to focus on creating another child.

While Peeta was at the bakery during the day, Katniss spent time at home with their daughter, or went out hunting with Daisy while Anabel or Sae watched the child. By the time Peeta headed back to the Victor's Village, Willow was excited to see her father, to tell him every detail of her day – with the vocabulary of a toddler, that is. And while Peeta cherished every second with their precious daughter, he would catch Katniss's eye from across the room, sending her an apologetic look when she appeared slightly anxious to be alone with him.

They would eat dinner together, then tuck Willow into bed early, Katniss singing her a song and giving in when the three-year-old begged for another, and then another. And Willow didn't protest too much when her parents finally turned out the light and left, but there were plenty of nights where bad dreams plagued the child and the sound of tiny bare feet pattering down the hall would halt any romantic entanglements. Katniss would gather up Willow in her arms, stroking the child's dark hair as they lounged on the couch or in their bed.

There _were_ some nights Katniss and Peeta spent alone, lingering touches and smoldering passion filling the quiet nights. But Katniss's favorite days were the ones where Anabel came to fetch Willow early and Peeta took off work from the bakery.

They would spend those long days in bed together, the sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains, leaving patches of its radiance on their skin. And it was like those early days back in District Twelve when the two were first finding themselves – and each other. Katniss remembered the night Peeta had returned from the Capitol, how tender and sweet and new it had all been.

And when Peeta would finally pull himself out of bed, stretching his artificial limb, Katniss would protest, begging him to return.

"It's getting late…" He would say with a regretful tone. "Anabel will be bringing Willow by any time now," he argued when Katniss's smile transformed into a pout.

"_No_, she won't…" Katniss remarked, her frown changing back into a playful grin. Peeta looked confused, but paused in the midst of pulling on a pair of pants.

"I told Anabel _we_ would come into town to get Willow today…" Katniss explained. "She said not to worry, we could pick her up any time."

So Katniss let the sheets fall from her naked figure and made her way to where Peeta stood. The pair of pants he had been attempting to don were forgotten until he nearly tripped over them as Katniss led him back to bed. They laughed together as he stumbled, nearly tripping them both. And so he sat on the edge of the bed, bent down, and extricated himself from the offending garment while Katniss sat back on her heels, naked, her legs tucked under her on the mattress.

And then she pulled him down, her arms coiling around his shoulders, his head resting in her lap for a moment. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was as thick and blond as ever, and she brushed it away from the scars on his forehead, her fingers tracing each soft line. After all the years that had passed, those marks had faded. And yet they still remained, perhaps as reminders of how fragile life truly was. Perhaps as wounds that could only be mended with the shedding of tears and the soft brush of lips.

But the scars would never fully heal, and that is why they had been given each other, Katniss figured.

Her scars matched his, if not in number or placement, at least in import and origin. And just as he was missing a limb, Katniss felt as if she were missing a piece of herself without him. Every time he left for the Capitol, the ache returned to her chest until he arrived back in District Twelve.

And even if Katniss hadn't become pregnant, their time together would not have been wasted.

"I think we should try to get pregnant more often…" Peeta teased as he and Katniss collapsed into a sweat-soaked pile on the bed. Katniss managed to laugh as she gasped for breath.

And it was true. With Willow now a toddler, the physical intimacy between Katniss and Peeta had dwindled down to hurried moments while the child slept, Katniss afraid that any moment she would hear the distressed calls of her daughter. And Peeta was often exhausted from long days at the bakery, then evenings filled with playtime, such that he would be sound asleep before Katniss was finished with her nightly routine in the bathroom.

It was precisely why – when they did have precious time together – it felt to Katniss like the early days of their relationship. After months of chasing a toddler, they treasured the moments they could spend alone. They lost themselves in each other, discovering new delights.

And Anabel would giggle and Katniss's cheeks would turn bright red when the mother of three brought Willow back to the Victor's Village for dinner. The child would run to her father, and Anabel would open her mouth as if to ask some scandalous question. Katniss would give her a steely look, and almost feel bad for it. But nothing fazed Anabel, and she would laugh and send knowing looks Katniss's way.

"Just what is so funny, Anabel?" Peeta would ask, Willow in his arms.

"_Nothing_…" Katniss would reply, sending Peeta a look of warning.

But Katniss knew she could never thank Marc or Anabel enough for taking care of Willow while Katniss was off hunting or trying for a second child with Peeta. Any act of gratitude, Anabel brushed off, assuring Katniss and Peeta that Willow was well behaved and hardly a chore to watch.

It didn't happen overnight. There were pregnancy tests bought at the apothecary's shop that read negative and were thrown forlornly into the trash. Katniss didn't care who saw her out and about buying such a product. She had been so careful, the first time she was pregnant. So timid. And worried about what rumors would spread. Now she couldn't care less if it got around town that she was trying for another. And while she didn't like the whole district knowing her business, she wasn't scared either. She got tired of random strangers asking her if she was pregnant, but for the most part there was only a small hubbub over the matter.

No, it didn't happen after a month. Or even two. So Katniss set her jaw and resolved to keep on trying, and Peeta didn't complain one bit.

And Katniss attempted to let their rediscovered intimacy outweigh the anxiety she felt in getting with child. The situation did figure heavily in her thoughts sometimes, though. Perhaps she was only meant to have one child, like Leevy and Thom. Perhaps she wasn't eating the right kinds of food or taking the right vitamins. Perhaps her body had just been through too many things and was too old to handle another pregnancy.

It was the morning of the 17th annual Harvest Festival, and Katniss had missed her cycle. Ever since she had stopped breast-feeding Willow, Katniss's monthly courses had become unfailingly predictable. But in late October, almost two weeks before Willow's fourth birthday, Katniss knew something was off.

She bundled up Willow against the chilly fall weather and grabbed her own coat before heading off toward town. Peeta had left early that morning to set up his booth and bake, and so Katniss walked slowly with their daughter in tow, Daisy plodding along beside them. She bent and picked up the toddler at the halfway point, carrying her for the remaining distance. The leaves had begun their yearly transformation weeks prior, and Willow pointed out the myriad of colors in delight.

The town square was crowded as usual, rows of booths set up in a large rectangle, the makeshift stage and dance floor off to one side. Katniss eyed the produce stands eagerly, thinking of the pumpkin and zucchini bread Peeta had baked a few nights before. Willow begged to be let down, and so Katniss let her walk, holding one had tightly. A few folks had stopped to pet Daisy and were attempting small talk with Katniss. She nodded politely, but was only half-listening to them as she scanned the throng for Peeta.

Of course in the seventeen years that he'd been participating in the festival, Katniss should have known where his booth was. Most years, it was somewhere near the bakery, making it easier for Marc or Edda or Theo to run back and forth with fresh bread and treats to sell. But the layout changed every so often, and so there was no guarantee that Peeta's stall would be on that side.

Katniss spotted Rye and Marc and recognized Peeta's artistic skill in the signs and banners that adorned the booth. Despite Willow's protests, Katniss picked her up and made her way through the crowd.

"Good morning," Katniss greeted the father and son, breathing somewhat heavily with the toddler on her hip. The men greeted her in turn.

"Where's Peeta?" She asked, searching the area for any sign of his blond hair and easy smile.

"He's in the bakery, finishing up another batch of cookies, I think," Rye replied between helping customers. Marc nodded silently.

Katniss let out a sigh. She would have to fight the crowd to make her way to the bakery. She thanked Marc and Rye and commanded Daisy to stay before heading out to find her husband. The apothecary's shop caught her eye, though, and she changed her course. She repositioned Willow on her hip before entering the shop. The bell on the door sounded her entrance cheerfully, and the apothecary nodded a greeting as Katniss headed toward a familiar shelf full of pink and white boxes. She paid for the pregnancy test and stuffed it in her coat pocket. Little Willow was bursting with questions.

"Mama, what _is_ it? What did you _buy_?" She asked animatedly. Katniss shushed her daughter as the exited the shop.

"It's a _secret_," Katniss whispered. "A secret for Daddy." She explained, Willow's eyes growing wide. Eyes just like her father's.

"So you can't tell," Katniss continued. "Not yet."

Willow nodded her head and promised not to tell, the look on her face so serious that Katniss could have laughed.

Then Willow begged to be put down so that she could go play with Adelaide and Minnie, whom she saw from a distance. Katniss made her promise to stay with the two older girls, and watched as Willow ran toward them, her hair dark in the autumn sun.

An arm around her waist startled her and she nearly cried out.

"There you are," Peeta said, squeezing her waist beneath her coat and leaning close to kiss her cheek. She prayed that he didn't feel the little box in her pocket.

"I was just looking for you…" Peeta explained.

"Oh really?" Katniss remarked, turning to face him. "_I _was looking for _you_." She replied with a grin.

"Marc and Rye are going to hold down the booth for a while," Peeta said after planting a tender kiss on Katniss's lips. "Want to go look around?" Katniss nodded.

It was rare that the two were able to enjoy the festival together, as Peeta was usually too busy with his booth to leisurely stroll about and take in the sights. Of course Katniss kept one eye on Willow most of the time, watching as the three girls got their faces painted and then showed it off to Anabel, then Marc and Rye. Marc sent Rye off with them to bob for apples, and the teenager didn't look too happy about having to babysit. Katniss surveyed all the wares for sale while Peeta stopped to chat with the townsfolk. She found Carol Ann's booth on one corner, and pulled her pearl necklace from beneath her shirt to show the older woman how it had withstood the test of time.

At one point, Peeta pulled Katniss toward the dance floor. Once Katniss saw that Willow was safely resting with Addie and Minnie at the bakery's booth, she complied, holding out a hand toward Peeta. With his prosthetic leg and ignorance of the dance traditions of District Twelve, it made for a rather graceless promenade. They were both laughing rather uncontrollably by the time the band switched to a slower song, Katniss wrapping her arms around Peeta's neck as she swayed to the melody.

She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking that seventeen years ago she would have never set foot on a dance floor in front of the entire town. It was funny how love changed things.

Levan cut in for a dance – a quick-tempo jig that he knew rather expertly. Peeta sauntered off back toward his booth.

"How is the little one?" Levan asked when the music slowed back down. Katniss sucked in a deep breath, for a moment thinking that somehow Levan knew and was asking her about the possible pregnancy.

"What?" Katniss asked. There was no way that Levan could know, unless perhaps he saw her in the apothecary's shop.

"How's Willow?" He inquired with a good-natured laugh.

Katniss felt foolish. Of course Levan didn't know. She suddenly thought of her coat, hanging at the bakery's booth, and the package stuffed in one of her pockets.

"She's growing like a weed," Katniss replied, using one of Greasy Sae's terms. They both chuckled at that.

And Katniss knew that she could have asked Levan about any plans he had to get married and start a family, but he would have just given her a half smile and hung his head, his dark hair falling about his handsome young face. He would have shaken his head, and maybe even said something about not having the right person to start a family with. She would have managed an apologetic smile, perhaps.

But Willow saved them from that conversation, throwing her tiny arms around Katniss's legs as she and Levan stood near the edge of the dance floor. Peeta was following behind their daughter, heaving as if he had been chasing her but had stopped.

"There she is," Levan said brightly and picked the tot up, whirling her in his arms. Willow squealed in delight.

Peeta stood near Katniss, placing his arm around her. She leaned against him, soaking in his warmth as the chill of autumn surrounded them.

"So our daughter tells me that you have a surprise. A surprise for me..." Peeta spoke softly in her ear, his arm pulling her even closer.

She nearly wept that night when the pregnancy test read positive.

"Looks like you're about 6 weeks along," Dr. Cavanaugh told Katniss and Peeta a few days later. Katniss had insisted they see the healer as soon as possible, just to make sure the at-home test wasn't a fluke.

Peeta was leaned close to the exam table where Katniss lay on her back, his hand clutching hers. On the screen of the portable ultrasound machine was a tiny gray thing that the healer assured them was a baby.

With Willow, Katniss had been scared. Scared to bring new life into the world, but also worried that she wouldn't be able to. But this pregnancy held little of that doubt. Even if something were to happen, Katniss had already been blessed with a daughter. But somehow she knew that all would be right within the universe that dwelled inside of her. Something in the cool of autumn told her that life would continue to quicken and grow.

"I think it's going to be a boy," Katniss said one night in late spring.

The last of the venison had been eaten a few days before. Peeta had teased her, advising her not to go deer hunting in her eighth month of pregnancy.

"You_ think_ it's going to be a boy, or you _want_ it to be a boy?" Peeta asked, lying beside her in bed. Katniss turned to look at him, her hands resting on her protruding belly.

"I just have a feeling…" She said with a smile. Katniss and Peeta had seen Dr. Cavanaugh for an ultrasound a few weeks prior, but again had not learned the sex of the baby.

Peeta laughed, and shook his head. She knew how much he wanted a son, but she also knew that he would be thrilled with another daughter as well. But something deep within her pointed her toward a boy. It was that same feeling she had when she knew the pregnancy would go to term. The sensation that all was finally right in their often painful, often broken world.

"Well then…" Peeta started, flashing a grin that was bright in the dark. "Guess we'll have to start picking out names…"

And this time Katniss laughed, rolling her rotund figure toward him. She wrapped her arms around his solid frame and kissed him, certain that joy and sorrow had finally found balance in their lives.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Sorry it took me SO long to update! I've been super busy this week, plus caught up watching the Olympics, I must admit. It is such an exciting time though, and it makes me think of how such amazing sporting events could morph into a spectacle like the Hunger Games in Suzanne Collins' dystopian future. Let's just hope that never happens for real.

Anyway, this chapter has some adds in some drama, so I hope it's not too far-fetched. It's an idea I had been debating for a while, but decided to explore in this chapter. You'll see. And there's another baby Mellark! Any guesses on the name? Hint hint: it won't be revealed in this chapter!

Thanks, as always, to all my loyal readers and reviewers. You guys are THE best. I hope no one withered and died out there from waiting on this chapter. Again, I'm sorry it took so long to write. I just really wanted it to be a well though out chapter and so I had to be in the right mindset to be able to convey the emotions I was going for. So hopefully everything comes across how I imagined it and not too lame. But you guys seem to never be disappointed even when I think a chapter is a bomb. Must be because you are awesome. So continue to be awesome and read and review!

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Willow was thrilled that her grandmother was coming to visit. She didn't remember the older lady in person, but she had spoken on the phone with the woman more times than she could count. And so she was sure it was a good thing that her grandmother was coming all the way from District Four – the District that was as many numbers as she was old – to visit.

And Katniss was a tad bit worried about how Willow would handle a new addition to the family – a younger brother or sister – so she was glad that her mother had agreed to come and stay a few weeks before the little one's expected arrival. That way it wouldn't be too much all at once for Willow – a baby _and_ a grandmother.

Katniss and Peeta had argued over the baby's room, whether to move Willow to the larger room that had once been Mrs. Everdeen's, or leave her in the room she was in now and convert the guest bedroom into a nursery. Katniss wanted to move Willow into the bigger room – she _was_ getting older and perhaps needed more space than a newborn. Plus the bigger room was farther away from Katniss and Peeta's room, meaning more distance to traverse in the middle of the night when the baby was crying. However, Peeta disagreed, stating that it would be more stress on Willow to switch rooms while adjusting to a new sibling.

Peeta had won that argument. So they left Willow in her room with her big girl bed and brought her crib out of storage in the attic, dusting off the wooden frame. Katniss picked a shade of bright green, a verdant color that reminded her of spring, and painted the guest bedroom over the course of an afternoon. She had been nearly eight months pregnant at the time, but with a toddler and a golden retriever to run after, she had put it off until the last minute. It was late spring, and so she left the windows up to allow the room to air out. Peeta assembled the crib, and though he had done so once before, it wasn't any easier the second time around. Katniss unpacked boxes full of baby clothes that Willow had once worn, gazing on each garment with a wistful smile, rubbing the soft fabric gently between her fingers.

Willow stood dutifully beside Katniss, begging to help until she handed the tot some clothes to fold. And Willow tried her best, but the outfits mainly ended up in a heap on the floor, Daisy sniffing at them half-heartedly. Peeta painted a scene with cheerful yellow ducklings against the vibrant blue of a lake, and Katniss hung it above the changing table. She moved the old rocking chair to the nursery, and Willow even offered to loan the new baby some of her stuffed animals and toys. Katniss smiled down at her daughter and felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and of course blamed it all on the hormones.

And it killed Katniss to not be able to simply reach down and scoop up her daughter. She was bigger this pregnancy than last, and had been plagued with a few premature contractions, feeling the unwelcome tightening in her belly far sooner than the baby was due. Peeta folded his arms across his chest and Katniss knew he wanted to blame it on her doing too much – shooting a deer at six months pregnant, setting up the nursery at eight…And the list went on and on. But Katniss saw Dr. Cavanaugh, who gave her a shot of something that stung but stopped the contractions, and advised Katniss to take it easy.

So she stopped making treks into the woods, but she refused to quit Willow's archery lessons. Peeta had painted them a target, which Katniss had nailed to one of the trees in their backyard. So far, Katniss hadn't let Willow progress beyond soft-tipped arrows, but the tot was eager to learn. Once she had gotten the knack for actually holding the bow and arrow properly, Katniss had then turned Willow's sessions toward aiming at the large red bull's eye.

"You _never_ point your arrow at Daisy, or _anyone_ else," Katniss had stressed, kneeling beside her daughter. Willow had met her mother's intense stare and nodded, wide-eyed.

"You never aim at anything or anyone you aren't willing to kill," Katniss finished. If she was going to teach her daughter to shoot, the last thing she wanted was a mishap with one of her young friends or a pet.

Willow had seemed appropriately frightened by her mother's words, though Katniss wasn't sure if the four year old knew entirely what she meant. But the blue-eyed little girl had set her jaw and kept practicing her aim.

Their first jaunt into the woods hadn't been as successful.

Katniss hadn't taken her daughter very far into the forest. They had had plenty of other hikes into the wilderness, even to swim in the lake, but never with the purpose of hunting. Perhaps Katniss should have waited until Peeta had a day off from the bakery so that he could have accompanied them. But she hadn't thought of that until after.

She had gathered up her own bow and arrows, a pack full of water and snacks and even a change of clothes for the toddler, and Willow's tiny bow and sponge-tipped arrows. Willow dressed herself that morning, donning a pair of pants and a simple green shirt to match her mother's dark pants and cotton tunic.

They set out for the woods, Daisy trotting dutifully beside them. Katniss slowed her pace significantly to accommodate Willow's tiny legs, instructing her daughter on how to slink quietly through the underbrush. Willow tripped a few times, but got right back up and brushed off her hands, smiling up at her mother.

It was a different story when Katniss shot the squirrel.

She had purposefully ignored a few of the animals that scampered up trees early on their hike. Daisy would perk her ears up expectantly, but then continue walking when Katniss failed to lift her bow. They stopped near the edge of a clearing, though, and Katniss bent to whisper to Willow.

"The trick is," Katniss spoke softly, kneeling by her daughter, "to either stay low, hiding behind the bushes, or to get up high by climbing a tree. Those are the best spots."

Willow nodded solemnly, her blue eyes wide. Katniss crouched down and pulled her bow from her shoulder. She notched an arrow and scanned the area, spotting a fat squirrel that had paused on a low branch after scampering up a tree. Willow let out a gasp as Katniss loosed the arrow and the small animal hit the ground with a thud. Katniss signaled Daisy and the retriever ran the few yards to the base of the tree to fetch the squirrel. Katniss stood, throwing her bow back over her shoulder as Daisy pranced back. The dog dropped the squirrel at Willow's feet, the arrow sticking from its eye.

Willow took one look at the dead animal that landed on her toes and screamed.

Katniss ended up carrying her sobbing daughter all the way back home, Daisy following at her heels.

After that, Katniss hadn't taken Willow out hunting with her again. It took a few weeks before Willow was willing to even participate in target practice in the back yard. Katniss figured she would ease her daughter back into hunting, after the baby was born. Until then, Katniss still went hunting, but had Anabel or Sae watch after Willow on those days.

Mrs. Everdeen arrived two weeks before Katniss's due date. It was the end of May, the air warm and filled with the fragrance of blossoms baring themselves to the vault of heaven. Katniss laughed at the crop of wild flowers that had decided to grow and bloom in her front yard, turning the green lawn yellow. She had begged Peeta not to mow over them, and she was sure her neighbors weren't too happy when the yard started to grow up even more.

It was a blessing, having her mother around to watch Willow, to provide constant supervision – and entertainment – for the child so that Katniss could rest and prepare their house for the baby's arrival. Katniss was still under the notion that it would be a boy. It was just a feeling she had, and whenever she tried to explain it to her mother or Peeta, they would stare blankly at her. It wasn't that her symptoms of pregnancy were all that dissimilar. It was simply the sense of it, her perception of things. As she knew that spring would transform into summer, she knew that she would have a boy. Peeta remained skeptical, but they argued over boy names nonetheless.

"Cedar, Cypress…" He said, the words sounding harsh on his lips. "I don't know, Katniss…"

It was one night that Mrs. Everdeen was putting Willow to bed. Katniss and Peeta were still downstairs. Peeta was seated on the couch and Katniss sat across from him in one of the high-backed armchairs, her legs tucked underneath her, her arms folded across her chest.

She was determined that the baby's name follow the theme her mother and father had started so long ago with her name, and Prim's.

"There's also Alder and Aspen…" She retorted. She wasn't fond of either of those names, but she felt like bickering.

"Birch," Katniss said with mock enthusiasm, "Oh, or Heath. And why not stop at tree names…" She added, her tone even more wry. "There's Forest, Glen, Clay, or Rock…"

Peeta heaved a great sigh, which in the midst of a fight with Katniss was the wrong thing to do. She clamped her jaw shut and locked him in a steely gaze.

"Katniss…" Peeta pleaded, dragging out each syllable in her name. But instead of calm her, it only infuriated her more.

"Don't even…" She seethed through clenched teeth, shaking her head. She was no longer half-slumped in the armchair but sitting on the edge of it, her eyes narrowed.

"Your parents named you – and your brothers – after _bread_…" She had felt compelled to add in a few curse words that she heard Haymitch so regularly use, but she stopped herself.

Peeta had looked almost shocked – stunned, really – at her words. After his blue eyes grew wide, he broke off his gaze and looked at the floor. He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head slowly. Katniss was suddenly sorry for what she had said. She knew she had gone too far. She knew she should apologize, but the words stuck in her throat.

And at that moment, Katniss and Peeta heard her mother descending the staircase. Katniss turned her head, and Peeta stood swiftly and passed Mrs. Everdeen on the stairs. It was usually Katniss who retreated to the bedroom during arguments with Peeta or even Haymitch, so she felt out of place sitting in the living room. She almost forgot for a moment that her mother was present. Then Mrs. Everdeen cleared her throat and Katniss looked up again.

"Did I interrupt something…?" She asked, still holding onto the banister. She had paused on the last step, giving Katniss a knowing look.

Katniss buried her face in her hands for a long moment, gazing up when she heard her mother in the kitchen. Mrs. Everdeen came back into the living room a few minutes later holding two steaming mugs of tea. The older lady sat in the other armchair, its once deep red fabric fading after twenty years. Katniss accepted her mug and was reminded of a time where she was on the opposite end of such a situation, handing her listless mother a cup of tea to have the woman stare blankly up at her. It had happened too many times to count, after her father's death.

"Did you ever fight? With dad, I mean…" Katniss asked after she took a sip of tea.

It was quiet in the house, which meant Peeta wasn't pacing around upstairs. Katniss didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. Mrs. Everdeen let a smile spread across her features at her daughter's question.

"Did your father and I ever fight?" She replied, her eyes bright. She let out a simple laugh and it almost hurt Katniss to hear it, thinking of Peeta's bitter one from earlier.

"Sometimes, I don't think a day went by where we _didn't_ get into an argument," Katniss's mother continued. "Especially once we had children."

"I would be at home with you two all day, while your father worked at the mine. By the time he got home from his shift, he was so tired and worn out and all I wanted to do was tell him all the bad things you had done…" Mrs. Everdeen explained.

"And all _he_ wanted to do was eat and sleep, and play with you two…" She said with a soft chuckle.

It had been a long time since Katniss had heard her mother speak so openly about their father. Katniss felt the ache in her chest return. It was a deep and knotted thing.

"I don't…I don't really ever remember you two fighting…" Katniss replied after a span of silence. And it was true. She searched her memories for any kind of verbal altercations, yelling, but she just didn't remember.

"Oh, I generally waited until after I put you and Prim to bed. After your father would sing you to sleep…" Katniss's mother added in a wistful tone.

"How did you two sort things out…?" Katniss asked, her tea growing lukewarm in her hands. "How did you end the fight?"

"Well, sometimes it just fizzled out," Mrs. Everdeen started. "And other times I would apologize, or your father would. And sometimes we were mad at each other for days, until we both realized we were fools. That life is too short to hold on to anger…"

Her last statement haunted Katniss as she climbed to bed that night. Life _was_ too short to be fighting with Peeta, she knew that. But there was something off, something else other than a name for their child. It was like the slow ache in arthritic bones that portends a storm. Her pregnancy with Willow had been fraught with fear, but life with the child was idyllic. It was as if their existence was _too_ perfect.

She had wished for both her children. She wanted Willow desperately, as if to prove a point after the sorrow of miscarriage, that she was still whole, that she could still bear a healthy child. And the joy Willow added to their lives was so exponential that when Peeta begged for another, Katniss had no reason to protest. And she had not been afraid. She had continued to hunt, even felled the deer in her sixth month, storing up some of the meat for winter and eating the rest over several weeks.

All of that changed when her son entered the world.

Sae was there, and Peeta, along with Mrs. Everdeen, of course. Anabel had come to fetch Willow, who had cried and begged to stay. Eventually Anabel convinced the child to go along with her and they left. And while Katniss's labor with Willow hadn't been difficult, it had been long. This time, though, it was as if her body already knew what it was supposed to do, and things fell into place quickly.

So not too long after the contractions started, Katniss gave birth to a baby boy. Unlike Willow, he was bald, and Katniss nearly laughed when she saw his head, bare and bloody. He was plump and cried out loudly shortly after he entered the world, which was always taken as a good sign. Mrs. Everdeen cleaned him off while Sae was attending to the afterbirth. Peeta was clutching Katniss's hand and planting kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, and her nose as if he had completely forgotten about their argument a week earlier.

"What are we going to name him?" Peeta asked with a tearful laugh as Mrs. Everdeen handed the swaddled newborn to Katniss.

And unlike Willow, she didn't have a name. Ash? No, that was too much like burning, and the smell of charred flesh made her shudder. Elder? No, that would make him seem old. Linden…now that wasn't too bad. But then Katniss's mind went blank and she remembered the new life in her arms. He wasn't as beautiful as Willow had been. His face was red and squashed and pinched into angry lines as he squalled at the world. But he calmed down, his tiny features relaxing as Katniss let him nurse. She felt Peeta's hand on her shoulder and realized that he was still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, a name…" She breathed, catching sight of his blue eyes wide. "I…I don't know," she confessed.

"It's alright," Peeta whispered. "We'll think of something."

Sae was silent as she finished cleaning up Katniss. Mrs. Everdeen just stood nearby, busying herself by folding towels and catching glimpses of the tiny infant every-so-often. Katniss wondered where the joy was. Why was it absent this time? She had been so thrilled when Willow was born, emotions welling up inside of her until she could burst. Perhaps it was because this was her second child and so it wasn't quite new. But still, she figured she would have felt _something_.

But for the first time in a long time, all she felt was numb.

Peeta only took off from work for a week this time. Mrs. Everdeen hadn't stated any specific span of time she intended to stay, but Katniss assumed it wouldn't be a month, like before, as the older woman had already been in town a week and a half when Katniss went into labor. They had her set up downstairs, in the study, as both extra bedrooms would now be occupied.

Anabel brought Willow back over later that evening, Addie and Minnie in tow. Anabel gushed over the little boy and held him for a long while. Katniss sat in the armchair, a blanket wrapped around her despite the warmth of late spring. Willow was seated on the couch, Peeta on one side and Anabel's two girls on the other. She begged to hold her baby brother, and it was Peeta who showed her how to hold out her arms just right and cradle the infant gently. Katniss just stared off into space.

Everything was fine when Peeta was home and her mother was there to watch after Willow. Peeta would get up at night when the baby cried and bring the screaming infant for Katniss to nurse. He would change diapers, and no matter how few hours of sleep they both got, he was always cheerful. That only served to further irritate Katniss.

She was always tired. She had expected it, but at thirty-six years old, it was a far different experience than being nineteen and losing sleep while newly married. She was no longer so young, even though the people around her continued to age, fooling her even more. She wasn't a teenager stuck in the games anymore. She was a wife and a mother, and yet in those first few days after her son's birth, she didn't feel like either. At times, she didn't even feel human.

The exuberance she had felt with her daughter wasn't present. Perhaps it was because she was older. Perhaps it _was_ because this was the second time around. _But should it be any less miraculous? S_he asked herself. She tried to think back to when Anabel had given birth to her three children. Rye's birth had been cause for bittersweet celebration. And then Anabel had gotten so sick after Addie was born that friends and family were afraid they might lose her. But she had recovered and regained strength and had never been less than happy. And then Minnie was born and there was celebration once more.

And perhaps she was just tired, Katniss would tell herself. She would ask Peeta or her mother to watch the infant so that she could crawl back into bed for a few hours rest. But despite her fatigue, sleep didn't come easily.

It was late in the afternoon, and their son was two weeks old. Willow was stretched out on the floor in front of the hearth, coloring on some scrap paper Peeta had given her. Katniss was holding the newborn, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand to nurse him. He started to squirm and to fuss and then refused to latch on, screaming instead. Katniss stared at the tiny infant and felt helpless herself. Like a wave, it hit her, all of the negative emotions that she had held at bay for so long. Grief, anger, frustration. She had brought new life into the world, but she knew she wasn't supposed to feel the bitter sorrow and deep resentment that coursed through her.

She started crying, her sobs barely audible over the newborn's shrieks. Willow looked up from her drawing and came to her mother's side.

"Momma, momma…what's wrong?" The four-year-old asked, tugging on Katniss's shirtsleeve. And when she didn't answer, Willow just kept asking, raising her voice each time.

It was all too much, and Katniss began to cry, a pitiful ruin of herself.

"What's wrong?" She heard again, sometime later. "Katniss, what's wrong?" Only this time it wasn't a frightened Willow but Peeta asking the question, a sense of urgency in his voice.

Katniss looked up at him. Their son was still in her arms, but she realized that she had completely forgotten she was holding him. What if she had dropped him? She looked down to where he lay and noticed that her shirt was still unbuttoned from her failed attempt at nursing. Her hair had come out of its long braid, the dark tendrils covering her bare chest. When was the last time she showered? She wasn't sure, and the thought caused her to release a choking sob.

"Katniss, _please_…" Peeta was pleading, crouched over the end of the couch where she was seated. "Please tell me what's wrong…"

She looked up at him through her tears and replied.

"He doesn't even have a name…" She managed, the words coming out thick and strangled. "He doesn't have a _name_," she repeated. Peeta was silent for a second before he opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"What kind of mother am I, that I can't even name my baby…?" Katniss asked through a torrent of tears. The baby's crying had softened to a whimper.

Peeta had started calling the baby "little man" or "little guy," endearingly. And Willow called the infant "baby" or "brother" or sometimes a combination of the two. Katniss didn't call him anything, and it upset her.

She knew something was off. As if some light that had been burning bright inside of her had died. That light had gone out before, when Prim died. Looking back, she knew it had gone out when she'd been confined to District Thirteen and Peeta had been lost, taken by the Capitol. She had only been a shell of herself during those times. She knew the hollow stare all too well, the same stare she had received from her mother's blue eyes when Katniss's father had been killed in the explosion. The same stare that had met her gaze when she looked into a mirror upon her return to District Twelve – without Prim.

That light inside of her had burned bright with purpose when she had to provide for her mother and Prim. It had blazed for so long upon her return to District Twelve, after her relationship with Peeta had progressed from non-existent to romantic, and had only waned after she suffered a miscarriage. But now she had no traumatic event, no death in the family or disappointment to cause such a drastic change in her mood. The birth of her second child with Peeta – the love of her life – should be a happy occasion, she told herself over and over.

It was as if her life _was_ the clock arena from the 75th Hunger Games, different periods of time unveiling some new terror, some new horror to destroy her. There were times of relative peace, when the storm was in someone else's life, but then the tempest cycled back again to devastate her world anew. But then the comparison felt counterfeit, as if she were doing a great disservice to all of those who had lost their lives in that arena.

For so many years she had tried to move beyond the past. She told herself that her life wasn't ruled by what had happened so long ago. Shouldn't she just be able to move on? But then she thought about Haymitch, who buried his demons in the bottle. Or her mother, who had moved to District Four and immersed herself in her work as a healer.

There was no happy, flawless way to "move on" from what had been done. No, it was rather messy, much like giving birth. You lived the best you could under the circumstances, grimacing when the pain came, then breathing a sigh of relief when it was over. But as new life came into a filthy world, you were forever changed. Some things you just can't go back to, Katniss knew.

"I think you need to see Dr. Cavanaugh," Peeta suggested one evening.

Katniss's breakdown over not naming their son had been the first of many. It had been well over a month since she had given birth, but Katniss had not improved. Peeta's attempts at cheering her up had failed. Sweet words and tender kisses, a bouquet of flowers and her favorite treats – nothing had worked. And Peeta was worried.

"_We_ need to see Dr. Cavanaugh," he reworded his request as Katniss stared at him.

"I think that's a good idea," Mrs. Everdeen chimed in. Katniss's mother had planned on leaving shortly after Peeta returned to work at the bakery, but Katniss's sudden change in mood and behavior had prompted the older woman to stay.

And so they helped Katniss up the stairs to shower for her appointment with the town healer, Mrs. Everdeen supporting her under one arm, Peeta under the other. Katniss's legs felt like lead, and Peeta had to coax her repeatedly, gently, for her to even move them. At the top step she panicked, suddenly wondering where Willow and the baby were, but they assured Katniss that the children were alright, as both had already been put to bed. They peeled off her clothes slowly, Mrs. Everdeen combing out the tangles from Katniss's unkempt hair. Then they steered Katniss toward the shower, helping her in and adjusting the water temperature. The older woman exited the bathroom then, and Peeta climbed into the shower with Katniss.

What would have once been an amorous gesture, Peeta stepping under the jet of water behind his wife, it was purely for practical purposes that night. He ran his hands through her long hair, making sure it was adequately wet before applying some citrus-scented shampoo.

"Close your eyes," he spoke softly, and Katniss obeyed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked the shampoo into a lather, letting the suds work their way into the very distant ends of her hair. Peeta paused for a moment, and Katniss was tempted to open her eyes imploringly, but then she felt his fingers on the top of her head and he began massaging her scalp. She reveled in the feel of his deft hands, and almost smiled when she realized that she was enjoying something for the first time in weeks. But then her thoughts shifted to the fact that he most likely wasn't doing this entirely for her pleasure, but to cleanse her disastrous mane.

Once he had rinsed her hair, Peeta took up a sponge and a bar of soap. Katniss stood under the showerhead, her eyes still closed as he caressed every inch of her skin. Under different circumstances, she would have stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. And as the water poured over her face, she would have kissed him. And while she did feel the slightest tickle of something stirring, it was too clouded by the numbness she felt. So she only moved when he instructed her, letting the shower wash off the grime that had accumulated on her.

She slept soundly that night, not waking to the terrors her mind had created as she had been wont to do as of late. She slept a restful sleep, her long, wet hair curled onto the pillow, clean sheets wrapped around her, and Peeta warm beside her.

"It's post-partum depression," she heard Dr. Cavanaugh explain to Peeta. Or perhaps the healer was explaining it to both of them, and Katniss merely thought she was overhearing their conversation.

And Katniss could have told them both that she knew what it was. She had feared depression would consume her after Willow's birth, but she had been lucky. The second time, she wasn't as fortunate.

The healer had started off the visit by examining their son, who was in perfect health despite Katniss's state of decline. And then Dr. Cavanaugh sat down across from Katniss and simply began to talk. The auburn-haired woman would ask a few questions, then smile and chat away, regardless if Katniss answered the question or not. The healer would scribble a few notes every-so-often or ask Peeta a question or two. He would answer dutifully, rocking the baby in his arms. More than a few times, Katniss zoned out, her mind wandering somewhere far away, into worries and fears that had once been buried deep. It would take several tries before Dr. Cavanaugh or Peeta got her attention.

"What can we do, doc?" Peeta implored the healer after she had given her diagnosis.

"You were under the care of a Dr. Aurelius, from the Capitol, right Katniss?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked. Katniss, who was now actually paying attention to the conversation, nodded.

"We both were," Peeta explained. "But that was years ago. Dr. Aurelius discharged us from his care a long time ago…"

"I think it would be a good idea to get into contact with someone like that," the healer said. "I can make some phone calls and find out if Dr. Aurelius is still practicing or if he's retired now…"

Katniss heard the words, but they weren't sinking in. She hadn't talked to Dr. Aurelius in ten years, maybe even twelve. She didn't understand how that was supposed to make her better now.

"And I'm going to write her a prescription." Dr. Cavanaugh continued, pulling out a prescription pad from the pocket of her white coat. She wrote in broad strokes, then signed her name and tore off the slip of paper. Peeta took it from her.

"Get that filled at the apothecary's shop and have her take one pill every day." The healer instructed Peeta as he folded the little piece of paper and tucked it safely into his pocket.

Peeta didn't feel too relieved when they left the clinic that day, but Dr. Cavanugh promised that she'd call him about a therapist from the Capitol.

"I'm just not that kind of doctor," she explained with an apologetic smile. "I want to see your wife back in two weeks. Sooner if things get worse, alright?"

And so Peeta dropped off the prescription to be filled and the two headed back to the Victor's Village, their son cradled in Peeta's arms. The summer sun was warm and bright, and Katniss felt the crushing weight of her fears and frustration lift just ever so slightly. She thought of how nice a cool shower would feel, and then her mind wandered to the night before, when Peeta had climbed in to help her.

"Is that a smile…?" Peeta asked, genuine wonder in his tone as he gazed at his wife. Melancholy had permeated their days in the last month, but relief flooded his features when he saw the subtle change come across her.

"I'd like it…" She started, trying not to blush at the thoughts that came to mind. "I'd like it if…sometime…we could shower again, together…"

Peeta was silent as he studied her face, his brow furrowed just a bit. Once he realized that she wasn't making some sort of joke – the way the corners of her lips twitched up into the slightest smile and the pink tint of her cheeks helped – his features relaxed and he let out a mirthful laugh.

And so slowly, they coped with her depression, digging their way out one moment to the next. It was like healing from some wound, and at times, Katniss did feel bereft, though nothing had been taken from her. Some days were worse than others, and Katniss's only reason to drag herself out of bed was her two small children. Other days were better, and Katniss would actually smile – and laugh – as she cared for Willow and the newborn. Daisy seemed to know the moods of her master better than anyone else, nuzzling up to Katniss when she was feeling low, resting her golden head on Katniss's lap when she was in a tearful mood.

One night, Katniss and Peeta found themselves upstairs, alone, Mrs. Everdeen watching the children downstairs. So Peeta lead Katniss to the bathroom, only this time she didn't have to be coaxed to undress or helped into the tub. Soft kisses and delicate caresses intensified, and the steady drumming of running water drowned out the sounds of their ardor.

Dr. Cavanaugh was pleased with Katniss's progress, and she gave her a few numbers to call, all psychiatrists from the Capitol. And Katniss felt her grief and anger and frustration ease with each passing day.

But not every moment was joyous. Not every day was a success. Katniss began to feel better, and so she argued with Peeta about taking the medication Dr. Cavanaugh had prescribed.

"You _have_ to take it, Katniss," Peeta pleaded with her one evening. It was still quite early, but a summer storm had come up, turning the sky black. "You can't just stop taking your medication…"

"But I'm feeling better," she countered. The little square pills often made her naseuous, and caused her heart to race. She didn't like being at the mercy of a drug.

Peeta stepped toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable.

"I _know_ you feel better…" He replied softly. "And I'm glad, _so_ glad, Katniss."

His blue eyes grew bright when a flash of lightning lit up the house. Katniss nearly jumped as a crash of thunder followed close behind.

"I just don't want to lose you…" He continued. But Katniss felt as if it were all wrong. The violent weather wrangled with his calm pleas until it seemed as if the storm were inside of her, reflected outward on that blustery night.

"I _can't_ lose you…" Peeta said, his words mixing in with another peal of thunder. His hands were still gripping her shoulders and so he moved to shake her, intending to do so gently. But his movement came across more forceful than he meant, Katniss's body rocking back and forth rather vigorously.

And with the violent motion, her eyes flew wide, and she tore away from him then as he scrambled to apologize. But she was gone, bolting out the kitchen door and into the storm.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **And so ends the cliffhanger! Sorry to put that on all of you, but I just couldn't resist. I'm also very grateful to the response I've had so far with exploring PPD in Katniss. With all the trauma she's been through in her life, I just had to go down that path. But no worries, things will get better, if even gradually! And this chapter was easier to write than the last, even though I haven't had MUCH time in which TO write this week. This chapter is dear to me. There are a lot of metaphors and symbolism and so I hope it's not too "out there."

Hope you guys enjoy! And as always, thank you thank you thank you, all my readers and reviewers! You guys are such an amazing audience, and it is a wonderful feeling to get to write for you folks. :)

* * *

The heavens had opened up, and the rain threatened to wash Katniss away as her bare feet pounded through the mud. It was dark, but the sky grew bright with each flash of lightning. The whole world seemed to shake with each subsequent burst of thunder. Katniss let it all urge her onward – to where, she didn't know. But she continued to run, her clothes clinging to her slight frame, her heart drumming out the rhythm of her retreat.

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to get away. The look in Peeta's eyes, the feel of his hands on her shoulders transforming from gentle to violent all too quickly – it had been too much, and so Katniss had turned and fled.

She scraped her foot on a large rock at some point and had to slow down to inspect the wound. There was a long cut on her right foot, and as far as she could tell, it was oozing blood. It wasn't deep, but it throbbed, and the pain seemed to bring her back to her senses. Still, she continued to walk away from the Victor's Village, limping slightly as the storm raged on.

Katniss almost happened upon the area by chance. Almost. It was as if her feet were taking her there out of habit. Granted, it wasn't a habit she'd had in twenty years. She had abandoned entering the woods by that route ever since she returned to District Twelve. It had been easier to find a different path into the forest from the Victor's Village, especially once the large fence that had surrounded the area was dismantled. Remnants of the tall structure still remained in some spots, like near the clearing to the meadow.

A large post stood in front of her, the wires that had once run from end to end now dangling into open air where they had been cut. Wind and weather and time had twisted the metal into a mockery of its once intimidating shape, and now it endured as the only sign of a more brutal time. The only physical sign, at least.

And Katniss could have laughed to see the work that such an oppressive government had labored over go to ruin. And under different circumstances, she might have.

But then she realized that underneath her feet, hundreds were buried. The ground appeared untouched, and she knew that in nineteen long years, the elements had done their work. If someone who didn't know the region, didn't know the nightmares that the past held, walked upon the meadow, he or she might pause to appreciate the thick grasses or the tumble of wildflowers that spread their blossoms brightly through the clearing. Perhaps a deer would walk out of the forest, take stock of its surroundings, making sure no predators were near, and then step out into the field. Would the animal know the sorrows buried there? Would its heightened sense of smell perceive flesh turned to earth? Or would the dirt forever cover any evidence of those bones, buried in a mass grave marked only by the foliage of that season? Would they be lost for the ages, until some future civilization excavated them, only to wonder what misfortune had rained down on those lost souls?

There were no deer, no sign of any animal on that foul night. Katniss was soaked to the bone, and despite the warm and humid summer air, she was chilled to her very core. The fence post, the meadow, all illuminated by flashes of lightning – it filled her with dread. And sorrow.

With sobs wracking her body, she collapsed into a heap near the edge of the clearing. Here is where Peeta's parents, his older brothers were buried. Madge and her family. Countless others. But there was no grave for Prim.

And so she wept for those who had been lost, for those who had no one to weep for them. And just as she and Peeta had decorated the book of memories with so many tears, she called to mind the people she could remember who had perished during those tragic times and wept for them. And she wept because somewhere, deep down, she still blamed herself.

It really wasn't just her argument with Peeta about taking the anti-depressant. It wasn't that she couldn't find an adequate name for her son or that the only emotion she had felt at his birth was the absence of any. It was all of those things combined with the pain she kept hidden where her inmost sorrows dwelled. It was that her life was happy and bright and had been for nearly twenty years. Yet so many others had never lived to see the past score of years. So many had had their futures blotted out in an instant.

She didn't know how long she sat there, crying as the rain ebbed from a downpour to a mere trickle. It must have been some time, for the clouds moved off and the night sky peaked through, the storm finally blowing over. The wind was gusting though, and after a while, Katniss could have sworn she heard her name. She wiped her nose on her damp sleeve and stood, her hands becoming muddy in the process. The cut on her foot throbbed, and she was sure that blood had stained her pants leg.

And then she _did_ hear her name called from quite some distance. She peered out into the darkness, but the rain and her tears clouded her vision. She tried to clean off her hands on her already ruined clothes, certain that it was Peeta out looking for her.

She heard her name for a third time and she thought she saw a light through the trees somewhere near the road. It grew closer until she was certain it was a lantern being held by someone. Whoever was holding it paused at the edge of the clearing, swinging the light in Katniss's direction. He or she must have seen her because her name was repeated, only this time as a question.

The light blinded Katniss for a moment, and she raised one hand to shield her eyes. The person was about twenty yards away and moving closer. By that point, Katniss could tell that the individual was male, and it wasn't Peeta. The man walking toward her was tall and had dark hair, and for a moment Katniss's breath caught in her throat.

Gale Hawthorne was back in District Twelve and was looking for her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but then the man lowered the lantern and she realized that it _wasn't_ Gale after all. Levan. It was Levan, his hair not falling in waves to his shoulders but cropped short. Katniss would have wondered why he had decided to change it, had she not felt so relieved.

"Katniss…?" He asked again.

"Levan, I…" Katniss whispered. She didn't know quite what to say.

"Are you ok…?" He cut her off and moved closer, raising his hand as if to touch her cheek. He stopped himself, though, and dropped his arm back to his side. He looked her over for a second, catching sight of the cut on her foot. He sighed, then breathed in deeply before lifting his head.

"Hey guys!" He shouted. "She's over here, in the meadow!"

And at that, Katniss heard more noise from in the distance, from somewhere behind her. She felt foolish for mistaking Levan for Gale, but the downpour, coupled with her tears, had obscured her vision. And it was an easy mistake to make. Levan was tall and had a similar build to Gale – the Gale from her memories at least. And Levan had dark hair and gray eyes and olive skin – the same Seam look as her former friend.

She stood in silence with Levan, knowing she must look an awful mess. Her clothes were soaked and stained brown with mud and dried blood. Her feet were bare and her right one injured, and her hair had come down from its long braid. She had cried for some time, and so she was sure her face must be puffy and red – though she didn't figure anyone would notice in the dark.

"Levan!" She heard Peeta call.

"Over here!" Levan called back, lifting the lantern.

"You're sure you're alright?" Levan asked one final time, and Katniss nodded solemnly.

She looked over her shoulder to see a few lights growing brighter. One of them belonged to Peeta.

Within a minute or two, Peeta and Thom came ambling into the meadow, lanterns in hand. Peeta was breathing hard and had a worried look on his face. His blue eyes grew wide when they connected with Katniss's, but after a momenet, relief seemed to spread across his features. Katniss didn't take her eyes off of him.

Peeta was to her in seconds, and he _did_ cup her face, dropping the lantern into the thick mud so that he could use both hands. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones and he leaned close. She could feel his warm breath on her face. He smelled of cinnamon and fire, and Katniss longed to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him even closer. But her feet stayed planted in the muck.

"Katniss…" He breathed, "Are you alright?" His hands were still on her face, but his eyes were searching for any sign of injury. Katniss nodded.

He wrapped his strong arms around her soaked frame and pulled her into an embrace, his mouth near her ear.

"I was _so_ worried," he whispered after letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm _so_ sorry, Katniss. I remember arguing and then you ran...the lightning crashed, and I was…somewhere else," he explained as he held her, choosing his words carefully with Thom and Levan standing nearby.

"Next thing I know, I was on the kitchen floor and you were gone, back door wide open…I couldn't find you anywhere…" He continued, his voice growing thick.

Katniss closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. It was hot and muggy outside, but she still clung to his warmth. His torso was solid against her. His explanation accounted for Thom and Levan's involvement. Peeta must have been distraught when he realized he'd had a flashback and Katniss had fled.

"I'm _so_ sorry…" He whispered again, his voice pained. She could tell he was close to tears himself, but she had cried enough that night for the both of them.

So she pulled back enough to press her lips to his. The kiss was brief, but worked to quiet Peeta. Katniss could have laughed – she'd used that trick for twenty years now. But it hadn't been only to silence Peeta.

"Let's go home," she whispered in his ear. Thunder still rumbled from somewhere in the distance.

Peeta broke from the embrace and looked around at Thom and Levan, a tad sheepishly.

"Thanks Thom." Peeta nodded toward the older man. "Levan." He said, nodding in the other man's direction.

"Sure." Thom said matter-of-factly.

Levan lifted his lantern once more toward Katniss, peering at her from behind the bright light. He gave her look, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if everything was truly all right. Katniss managed a weak smile in reply.

"No problem," Levan responded before he and Thom walked back off toward town, the light from their lanterns growing dimmer.

Peeta scooped his lantern up off the ground and handed it to Katniss. She took the light without question, but was surprised when Peeta scooped her up in his arms. She started to make a noise of protest, but then they were off, Peeta plodding back toward the Victor's Village without much difficulty.

"You didn't hurt me…" Katniss spoke after a long quiet. She didn't know what his flashback had been about, and if he'd run to town to fetch Thom and Levan to help find her, he must have feared the worst.

"We were in the kitchen, and we were arguing," Peeta said, retelling the story more for himself than for any other reason. "Then I come to and I'm on the floor with the back door flung open…and I couldn't find you…"

His voice had been steady at first, but grew thick with emotion as he spoke. Katniss bobbed up and down in his arms as he walked, choosing his path carefully in the dark. She felt foolish for running off, for fleeing from her troubles as she had done before. She thought of years ago, when she had learned the terms of the 75th Hunger Games and had run off to hide in the cellar of an empty house. Haymitch had been the one to find her then, bottle in hand and drunk as a skunk. It was also one of the many times Haymitch had informed her that she didn't deserve Peeta. And it was true.

She thought of all the times she had hidden in closets or crawl spaces in District Thirteen, popping morphling pills to numb the ache she felt, the hole created by Peeta's absence. But now she had a family, a life back in District Twelve – a good life.

"I didn't know what had happened, if I had hurt you," Peeta continued. Katniss glanced up at his face, shining in the light from the handheld lantern. He was staring straight ahead. "I was afraid you might be injured, so I ran to town…"

Katniss tried to imagine the horror that might have washed over Peeta when he realized Katniss had fled. During most of his flashbacks, she stayed near him, so what – this time – had caused her to run? Only something atrocious, perhaps. And so he had gone to town, seeking out able bodies to help him search for her.

"I'm just so glad Levan found you…" He said.

At one point in her life, Katniss might have blushed to remember her absurd idea – that Gale Hawthorne had happened upon her in the meadow at night. But she only felt daft. Of course the meadow had been a common spot for them to meet, either entering the forest or exiting from a day of hunting. It had been where they had had their first kiss, the one that President Snow had somehow known about. But now the meadow was a graveyard. And she had laid to rest any affection she felt toward Gale a long time ago.

"You didn't get Marc for your search party…?" Katniss asked, her tone slightly teasing. Peeta took her question as a good sign, and he actually let out something of a laugh.

"No…we had a long day at the bakery, and I didn't want to alarm Anabel or their kids…" Peeta explained. "So I went to Levan's first. Thom had been over there fixing a leak in the kitchen when the storm hit, so I was lucky I caught them both…"

Peeta had given his account of the events in detail, but Katniss knew it was partly because he was avoiding another question. It hung between them though, as thick and as tangible as the humid summer air.

"Katniss, I…" Peeta started, but she cut him off.

"You shook me," she stated quietly. "We were arguing and you had your hands on my shoulders and you shook me. You didn't hurt me…I scraped my foot on a rock when I was running, but _you_, you didn't hurt me." She added. Peeta was silent.

"You didn't hurt me," she repeated. "You just scared me."

"I'm sorry, I…" Peeta apologized, but Katniss spoke over him again.

"I didn't realize you were having one of your flashbacks, or about to…" She explained softly. "I just got upset, and so I ran…"

They were both quiet for a while as Peeta tread carefully on the wet gravel road leading back to the Victor's Village. The crunch of his footsteps and the reverberating thunder were something of a comforting melody to Katniss. In one hand, she held the lantern for their journey home. Her other hand was wrapped around Peeta as he carried her.

"You know, you can let me down…" Katniss said, almost as an afterthought. She really did feel a bit ridiculous, being carried home in Peeta's arms like some admonished child who had run off in a huff.

"I _can_ walk," she added in a wry tone, as if there was any question about the soundness of her lower extremities. She was sure the cut was merely superficial.

"Just let me carry you," Peeta quipped back. Katniss clamped her jaw shut and didn't argue.

So she rested her head on his shoulder as Peeta walked back through the murky night. There wasn't a single soul out at that hour, though someone's dog was barking from afar. A few lights were on in the Victor's Village, and Katniss felt a sense of relief as Peeta neared their back step. Perhaps running off, finding herself in the meadow and having a cry had done some good, she mused. At least it was better than simply feeling numb.

She made Peeta deposit her at the bottom step, but he kept one arm around her as they entered the house. The cool air hit her and she suddenly realized how grubby she felt. Her clothes had dried some, but were still damp – and covered in grass stains and mud. She would have laughed at her appearance had there been some other cause.

Mrs. Everdeen was standing in the threshold between the living room and kitchen, her aged features creased with worry.

"Are you alright?" She asked her daughter. She reached out, placing her hands on Katniss's arms and leaning close to search for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine, just cut my foot on a rock," Katniss managed. She felt careless, thoughtless to have run off and left two small children for her mother to look after. Her mother, who was missing work to stay here in District Twelve while her daughter battled with her own demons.

Mrs. Everdeen, her face still lined with worry, excused herself and headed to bed. Katniss stood in the living room for a moment, almost as if unsure what to do. She turned back to see Peeta pull off his mud-stained shirt and throw it toward the laundry room. Then he leaned against the counter for balance as he bent to rid himself of his socks. He didn't look her way or make a sound, and Katniss realized that he had been quiet ever since she had teased him about carrying her.

She walked back into the kitchen and with muddy fingers unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it atop Peeta's discarded clothes. He did look up then, his expression unreadable. He was down to his boxers, which seemed relatively unscathed from all the rain and muck. Her underwear, however, had not faired as well. She peeled off her earth-caked pants only to find her once white underclothes had turned unappealing shades of gray and brown. They were probably ruined, but she removed them anyway, flinging the thin garments onto the growing pile.

And only when the air conditioning hummed on and a cold blast hit her bare skin was she aware that she was standing stark naked in the kitchen, covered in grit and grime, tendrils of her long hair dripping watery patterns onto the floor.

Peeta made a noise somewhere between a cough and clearing his throat, and Katniss turned her gaze toward him. He looked away quickly and tried to keep his mouth set in a neutral line. But Katniss could see the hint of a smile he was attempting to hide. Perhaps even a blush. And Katniss was tempted to make some sarcastic remark about the seventeen years they had been married and the multitude of times he'd seen her naked. But in that moment, she realized that their son had been born on June 5th – their wedding anniversary.

Up until that point, that fact hadn't even clicked in Katniss's head. She remembered when Dr. Cavanaugh had performed the first ultrasound. The healer had put Katniss's due date somewhere in early to middle June. But when Katniss went into labor, months later, she hadn't even been aware of what day of the week it was, let alone what day of the month. Her mother had come into town and there was Willow and Daisy and the final preparations for the new nursery. When Katniss thought back, she began to understand that she had already been headed down the dark path of depression _before_ her son's entrance into this world. His birth had only served to tip her over into the void.

Katniss was in the baby's room in an instant, standing over the crib and gazing down at her son. He was wrapped tight in a soft cream blanket, still swaddled at only two months old. He was still rather bald, but a soft, fine down was now covering his once hairless pate. Katniss knew that unlike Willow, he would have light-colored hair. Perhaps it would be as blond as Peeta's. The baby's skin was the same fair shade as Peeta's, and Katniss hoped that he would grow up as strong and as handsome as his father.

"You came into this world to teach me something, didn't you…?" Katniss spoke softly, her fingers touching the soft skin of her son's cheek. His eyes remained closed, but she knew that if he opened them, they would be mirrors of her own. She reached down and ever so carefully wrapped him in her arms.

"Everything ok…?" Peeta asked from the hallway.

Katniss nearly jumped. She had been too absorbed in her thoughts to even hear him clomp up the stairs. He was standing in the doorway to the nursery, still clad in his boxers. And then she remembered that she was completely nude, and rather bedraggled from her time spent out of doors.

"I just wanted to hold him…" Katniss answered, cradling their son in her arms.

She looked from Peeta back down to the baby, and the light from the hall shone bright on the metal around her neck, catching her attention. There hung the pearl, suspended from its chain. It was so tiny, and so delicate, much like her son. But the stone symbolized something much greater – it signified hope, and love.

She had worn it around her neck for seventeen, eighteen years, only taking it off and carefully storing it on a high shelf in the bathroom when she showered. She would step out of the bath, all clean, and towel off, then quickly refasten the necklace. And sometimes Peeta would be there, in the bathroom with her, and he would smile and step behind her when she reached her arms around her neck. And ever so delicately he would clasp the metal chain for her, then bend forward to plant a kiss on her neck.

Katniss smiled to think of it all. The pearl had given her hope in District Thirteen, had embodied her love for Peeta – who had been so unjustly taken from her – before she had even come to understand that love herself. And then she had thought it lost, upon her return to Twelve, had sunk so deep into her grief over Prim that she had left the pearl in the pocket of an old pair of pants. She had nearly cried when she found it that day, so many years ago, and had debated what to do with it while it stayed hidden in the drawer of the small jewelry box. She'd had it made into the necklace, and still remembered the look of surprise, then concentration, then remembrance on Peeta's face when he finally noticed it. How different her life had been back then, metaphorically tiptoeing around Peeta and his altered memories, then getting to know him all over again and sifting through the haze of the past together. But much remained the same – his quick smile and easy laugh, his kindness and intrinsic belief that there was enough good in the world to make up for all the bad.

"I'm glad to hear you say that…" Peeta said, moving to stand near Katniss.

His statement hurt, because Katniss knew that for the past eight weeks she hadn't really _wanted_ to hold her child. She nursed him and burped him and changed his diapers out of obligation, but not in return for any joy at bringing new life into the world. She was getting better, she knew, but she also realized that she had been foolish to think she could just stop taking the medication.

Her son – as well as her daughter – was her hope for the future. Both of her children were bright stars in the blackest of nights. The feeling was growing inside of her, much the same way they had both taken hold in her womb. She knew it would be a long and arduous journey from conception to implantation to actual fruition, but the idea had taken hold. Just as she had promised with Willow, she would tell her son about those loved ones she and Peeta had lost. She would teach them to never forget the mistakes of the past, so that they would not repeat such errors. And though she prayed that neither child would ever face true hardship, she knew she had to teach them instead to rise above their circumstances, to find all that was good in the world and hold on to that.

"He looks like you," Katniss said, a feeling somewhat akin to joy welling up inside of her as she gazed down at her son. It was the first time in a long time that she felt anything of the sort, and it almost alarmed her.

Almost.

Peeta made a noise of approval and moved even closer. His bare chest was pressing against her as he looked down into her arms and took stock of their creation. Much like earlier, in the meadow, she let his warmth comfort her. Despite all he had been through with the kidnapping and hijacking by the Capitol, he was still her anchor, her stability.

"But he has your eyes…" Peeta spoke softly, his breath tickling her ear. He inhaled deeply, placing his hands on her arms.

"And _you_ need a shower…" He said with a chuckle. Katniss stiffened and for a moment tried to act offended, but she knew it was true.

"We _both_ do," she quipped back, turning her head to look at her husband, clad only in his boxer shorts.

For a second she was certain that Peeta would raise and eyebrow at her statement, perhaps ask if that was an invitation. But instead, his features broke out into a wide grin and he exhaled a soft laugh.

"You go first," he offered, nodding his head toward the hall. "I'll hold him for a while." Katniss carefully slipped the slumbering baby into her husband's arms.

And so they both cleaned up, taking turns holding the infant while the other showered. At one point the baby woke up, hungry, and so Katniss loosed her bathrobe to let him nurse. She sat in the quiet of the nursery, gray light filtering in as dawn approached, and for once felt the wonder of it all. She was bone weary from a night spent crying out in the elements, but at least she was clean now, and holding her son.

Peeta poked his head back into the nursery after his shower, toweling off his blond locks. Katniss looked up at him and felt only love – and a little disappointment that he was wearing a cotton shirt and pants instead of simply his boxers.

Peeta caught the smile that played at her lips and grinned.

"I think I've found a name for our little duck," Katniss announced. The ache in her chest returned for one painful moment as she thought of Prim. She had only ever called her little sister that nickname.

"Oh…?" Peeta remarked, his tone expectant. Katniss let the wave of grief wash over her before replying.

"Sage," she declared, looking back down at the infant who was busy nursing.

"Sage Mellark…" Peeta pronounced the name slowly, his gaze thoughtful.

Katniss thought it fitting to name her son for an herb heralded for its ability to promote health and longevity. She remembered bittersweet moments with her father in the woods, showing her edible plants and herbs to use.

"Now this is sage," He had said, showing her a cluster of plants thriving along an embankment. His fingers, callused from long hours wielding a pickaxe in the mine, would run along the leaves so delicately, in true reverence for all growing things.

"Or _Salvia_, it's also called," He would explain, his dark features lighting up. "It means 'to heal.'"

And Katniss had taken it all in, every word, her grey eyes wide.

"It's also pretty tasty," her father had continued with a laugh, picking a handful of the sage leaves and inhaling their fragrance. "Especially with wild game…" He had added, winking at his dark-haired daughter.

Her memories of those times with her father were something sacred, forever existing in a world that was unadulterated and good. His word had been law, his songs the purest form of worship Katniss had known. The plant book, his hunting jacket, a few old photos were all that remained of him in the physical world. And of course Katniss herself, who favored her father's Seam look over her mother's blonde hair and blue eyes. And now there were two grandchildren that her father would never know. But Katniss was resolved – _they_ would know_ him_. Willow could already sing many of the songs he had taught Katniss, so many years ago.

"Sage Mellark…" Peeta repeated the name, the words sounding more familiar on his tongue. "I like it," he stated earnestly, looking over to where Katniss sat in the rocking chair.

Their son had finished nursing and was resting comfortably in her arms, but somewhere in all of her reminiscing, Katniss had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the peace she felt at last.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** So I've been ridiculously busy for the past two weeks and had like NO time to write or update this story. I'm sorry. And for those of you who have stuck with me for this long, thank you thank you thank you! The end IS nigh, but instead of trying to hurry and finish this story so that I can get back to focusing on my schoolwork, I wanted to be able to take my time and let this story play out like it should. THIS is NOT the last chapter. There will be one more, kind of like an epilogue type chapter, after this one. There are still a few plot points I wanted to develop further.

This chapter begins four years after Sage's birth. So the children are eight and four, respectively. However, it does jump back to Katniss's recovery from post-partum depression and events that happen in that four-year span. I'm sure everyone is used to my not-so-linear chapters, but I just wanted to make it clear so no one was confused about the timing. And I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes as it's late and I just wanted to get this chapter up ASAP!

Hope you enjoy! :)

And aren't you so excited that The Hunger Games is out on DVD now? I wanted to go buy it last weekend when it came out, but I was too busy housesitting and studying. But I finally sat down and watched it the other night. And as many issues as I have with the film and what the filmmakers chose to change/leave out, I still enjoyed the movie immensely. I can't wait to see Catching Fire. And they better make that beach scene with Katniss and Peeta hot. Just saying.

* * *

Katniss watched from her perch, high up in a tree, as the wild dogs took down the deer. It was a doe, her eyes dark and wide with terror as she had been chased into the dense underbrush, then overtaken by the pack, their snarls and growls reverberating through the forest. Katniss had one arm around the trunk of the tree – an old oak – her bow slung over her left shoulder. The other arm was wrapped tightly around the tiny body sitting behind her.

Willow was eight, and this was the first time – it wouldn't be her last – that she had encountered a pack of wild dogs. She was sitting on the branch, her small frame pressed against her mother's. Katniss looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the child's face pressed into her hunting jacket, but caught Willow's blue eyes watching the entire scene unfold. There was a mixture of curiosity, and fear in her daughter's gaze. The little girl had her own bow still gripped in her left hand. They had been up high, shooting squirrels when the large doe came crashing through the trees, the dogs following close behind.

The dogs yipped happily, snapped menacingly at each other as they consumed their kill, their snouts turning bright red in the process. Katniss could smell the blood – the deep bite of iron and other minerals as it hit the air. If it had been human blood, she might have been sick. But this – no, this was precept in an often cruel world. The pack killed the deer to survive. It wasn't any different than all the years Katniss had hunted these woods. It was all in the natural order of things – birth, death, life, love, pain. It was a lesson to be learned – a hard lesson, but a lesson nonetheless. And Katniss was in some ways glad that her daughter wasn't shrinking from the sight.

And if the hardest lesson learned were as simple as a natural predator taking down its prey, Katniss would be glad of that.

Hunting for food, being able to survive, was something Katniss wanted instilled in both of her children. If anything ever happened to her or Peeta or both, she wanted Willow and Sage to be able to fend for themselves. With all that Katniss had gone through in her life, she knew her own resourcefulness – taught to her by her father and then by circumstance – had been what had saved her. And while she prayed that the day her children would meet true hardship would never come, she knew that life rarely took heed of wishes or hope or prayers.

Katniss had been blessed enough to have a loving husband and a daughter and son. And she would do everything in her power to see them grow up happy and healthy. That protectiveness, that unconditional love was the same she had felt toward Prim. And it had all really started then, Katniss knew, nearly thirty years ago when their father had died and their mother had been too overcome with grief to see past her own sorrow. All the doubts, all of the misgivings she had had about bringing new life into the world – would she be able to provide, would she be a good mother? All of those questions that had plagued her were unfounded. She had become something akin to a mother to Prim long before she was even able to bear children of her own.

"We'll wait up here until things quiet down," Katniss whispered to her daughter. Willow nodded silently.

"Are you scared…?" Katniss couldn't help asking the child. There was no negativity in her voice, only motherly concern. Willow met her mother's gaze, her blue eyes dancing from the blood-filled scene on the forest floor to Katniss's face. The girl shook her head fiercely after hesitating only a moment. She ducked her head then.

"It's ok, you know. To be scared…" Katniss spoke softly.

"Those dogs were hungry…" Willow replied, her voice barely audible behind Katniss. "They killed the deer so they could eat…"

Katniss let the corners of her mouth curve up into a smile as she bent to plant a kiss on the top of Willow's head, right in the part where her hair was divided to make two braids. And while her daughter reminded her of Prim so much sometimes that the ache in her chest became a raw and gnawing thing, her daughter didn't shy away from hunting or killing. Peeta claimed that Willow looked just like Katniss, and it was true that she the dark hair to match, but Katniss often thought of Prim, so tiny and delicate. She supposed Peeta was right, though, as he'd watched Katniss grow from the girl with two braids who sang the Valley Song in music assembly to the girl who loved fiercely and would kill to survive. Would kill to protect the ones she loved.

And she could start to see a bit of that same fierceness in Willow. She was a thoughtful child, quiet and observant. She learned quickly and excelled in school, as well as the skills Katniss or Peeta taught her. She was protective of her younger brother, and would spend time teaching him the games of childhood, songs, or reading him stories. Willow had nearly memorized the book of memories, and would crawl down on the floor next to her brother, propping the book open to point out the different people. There was reverence in Willow's voice when she spoke, and she would praise Sage when he would point to a photo or sketch and call out the correct name. There was some magic in it all, as if she were reading some collection of fairy stories. But Katniss made sure that both her children knew these characters were real.

And Sage – in many ways other than his hair color – was like his father. He was still young, but he was a happy child, always laughing and smiling, a mischievous spark in his gray eyes. Katniss had spent months after his birth living a sort of half-life, struggling with post-partum depression. She had feared that Sage would somehow be affected by it, by her initial lack of attachment. But slowly, and with the help of her mother and Peeta and Dr. Cavanaugh, Katniss had returned to the land of the living and bonded with her son.

She could remember holding him, running her fingers through his crop of blond curls when he was a year old, his face breaking out into a wide grin. If there had been any baby pictures of Peeta salvaged from the old bakery, Kantiss knew it would be a mirror image of her son. Sage had babbled and cooed and started talking even earlier than Willow. He learned to scoot and crawl across the floor, chasing after Daisy and Willow. And then he learned to run after them, so fast that Katniss could barely catch him. She would scoop him up in her arms as he squealed with delight, shower his plump face with kisses, and hold him close to her body. Perhaps she was trying to make up for her behavior in his first few months of life. Perhaps she thought that smothering him with affection would undo any sort of damage her depression had caused. But so far there didn't seem to be any detriments to his development. Children were resilient, Katniss knew all too well. But she also knew crippling changes in mood, pain and sorrow that were inevitably tied to her maternal genetics.

And she prayed that neither of her children would ever experience such anguish.

It had been a long journey to finding herself again, after Sage's birth. Finding some sense of normalcy – whatever that meant. She thought things might improve exponentially after she ran off during that summer storm when their son was two months old. She had felt the awakening of joy, of pride upon naming the infant. But the road was not straight or smooth. Her mother had stayed another month before returning to District Four, and Katniss had vaguely wondered if the older woman would even have a job after being gone for over three months. So she watched her mother leave, Willow crying and clinging to Katniss's pant leg to see her grandmother go. And Katniss avoided calls from her mother for quite some time, letting the phone ring and ring until she finally had to unplug the thing because the noise kept waking Sage.

"Katniss…" Peeta would breathe her name while giving her a look that made her feel all of eight years old, being admonished for bad behavior. "You _need_ to talk to her. You _have_ to talk to her…" He would urge, placing two warm hands on her waist and bending his head ever so slightly so that he could meet her gaze. He didn't put his hands on her shoulders, though. Not after the last time.

And sometimes Katniss would tear away from him, going to scoop up Sage from the bassinet. Peeta would sigh and sit next to her sometimes. Other times he would lock himself in the study to paint.

"Have you called any of the doctors that Dr. Cavanaugh recommended…?" Peeta would ask, already knowing the answer. Katniss hadn't called anyone.

And there would be discontent in her life then, in those moments. Katniss knew she needed to call her mother, knew she needed to talk to someone more specialized than the local doctor, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Finally, Peeta made the call for her. She was on the couch holding Sage when Peeta placed the phone's headset in her hand. He didn't smile but motioned for her to take it, and talk. So she let out rather pathetic-sounding "hello," and wasn't surprised when a male voice on the other end introduced himself as Dr. Florian. He had worked under Dr. Aurelius until the older man had retired some years ago.

The doctor asked Katniss a series of questions, to which she responded with one or two-word answers. He asked her about the medication and made some adjustments, and encouraged her to call back in the next few days. When Peeta took the handset from her, he narrowed his eyes and informed her that calling the doctor back wasn't optional. She _was_ calling the doctor back, even if Peeta had to dial the number and force the phone to her ear.

So Katniss begrudgingly talked to the doctor two or three times a week, giving monosyllabic replies for the most part. And sometimes the questions he asked seemed like they had nothing to do with any kind of mental illness she had, but she went along with it anyway, if at first just so Peeta would stop scowling at her. It really didn't suit him at all.

And slowly, she began to realize that she hadn't felt numb in a long time. Sure, she was annoyed at her husband, and often tired and frustrated, but that was better than feeling absolutely nothing. Her conversations with Dr. Florian grew less strained as well. Her two-word responses transformed into full sentences, and after a few weeks of phone calls, he stopped adjusting her medication. He encouraged her to do the things that she enjoyed – hunt, swim, restart archery lessons with Willow. And it helped, it really did. Katniss could feel herself ease back into some sense of normalcy, reminding herself to smile more often and kiss Peeta for no reason at all. To hug Willow and play with Daisy and sing to Sage.

Gradually, the spell that had been cast over Katniss and Peeta began to knit itself back together, joy and wonder and even happiness returning to their lives.

No day was perfect, but some were close. There were picnics in the back yard, Daisy barking excitedly and chasing Willow in circles, Peeta holding Sage while Katniss set out warm bread fresh from the oven, hunks of cheese, crisp apples and ripe pears. He would settle himself on the blanket, eyeing the spread, Sage lying in the crook of his strong arms. When Katniss had gathered up the infant to nurse, Peeta busied himself by peeling the fruit. Katniss watched as he set to work on a large red and gold apple, rotating it against the sharp metal blade so that the skin came off in one long, curling ribbon.

"You know what they say, don't you, if you peel it in one long piece…?" Peeta looked up from the apple in his hands to Katniss. She shook her head.

"Well supposedly, if you toss the peel over your left shoulder, it'll land in the shape of your future lover's first initial," Peeta explained, a hint of mischief in his voice. Katniss had probably heard that old wives' tale before, but chosen to ignore it.

"Well, it's too late for _that_..." Katniss remarked, quirking her eyebrows at him.

Peeta broke out into a sly grin, setting the knife carefully back onto the blanket. Not taking his eyes off Katniss's, he raised the long, curled apple peel in one hand and tossed it gingerly over his left shoulder. He leaned forward then, his hands finding her arms where they held Sage. Peeta wrapped his warm fingers around her forearms and she felt waves of desire shoot through her, to her very core as his lips captured hers. Her cheeks were flushed by the time he pulled away reluctantly. He let out a deep chuckle and Katniss could feel the reverberations pulse through her from where his hands were still clutching her.

At that point Haymitch had decided to join them, stumbling down his back step at the sound of Daisy's delighted bark and Willow's squeals of pure joy. Katniss had scrambled a bit to cover herself back up from feeding her son, but Haymitch had waved a hand in dismissal, muttering something about "mother nature" and "not like I haven't seen it before…"

"Papa Haymitch!" Willow yelled at that moment, and Haymitch stood, digging around in his pocket to procure a brightly wrapped candy for the child. Nowadays he always had a peppermint or two in his pocket for his surrogate granddaughter.

Willow threw her arms around the old man as if she hadn't seen him in weeks, and Haymitch laughed, placing the candy into her tiny hands. And Daisy had come to sit by him expectantly, her tongue lolling, until he scanned the yard for a stick suitable for playing fetch.

And later, when the children had been put to bed with stories and songs, and Daisy had been let out one last time for the night, Katniss and Peeta found their own sense of joy in each other.

Their physical contact had been limited to mostly embraces – Katniss leaning into Peeta, resting her head on his shoulder, Peeta wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and breathing in the fragrance of her hair. They were always close at night, their bodies gravitating toward each other for warmth and comfort. And though they _had_ been intimate since Sage was born, it had halted after Peeta had shaken Katniss and scared her. When it came to the half-lidded glances, the subtle curve of lips hinting at something more, they were all of a sudden timid and hesitant around one another.

And it was amusing to think that at 36 years old, they were behaving like two young, inexperienced lovers. Katniss had not even been shy the first time they'd been together in that sense, back when they were 18 and Peeta had just returned from a trip to the Capitol. While her fellow Tributes in the Quarter Quell had deemed her "innocent" and had gone to ridiculous lengths to embarrass her, she had long since gotten over her bashfulness. Wearing next to nothing in the clock arena, forced into close quarters in District Thirteen, being burned over much of her body and recovering from those wounds – it all served to change the girl who blushed to see Peeta in his underwear during the first games into someone who could nurse her infant in front of him without thinking twice.

Of course there had been other times where she was still shy around him, but that had more to do with her thoughts than the actual situation. So when Peeta had returned from the Capitol and Katniss had felt that hunger well up inside of her again, she didn't hesitate when he had moved to pull off her nightgown or when she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts and tugged them down.

She didn't mind lying naked with him in front of the hearth or in a tangle of limbs on their bed. Her body was ruined – from the mottled, shiny skin of her back and arms to stretch marks that lined her breasts and abdomen from carrying two babies to term to the wrinkles that had recently appeared at the corners of her eyes – she knew she was no longer as beautiful as she once had been. But Peeta still loved her, worshipped every inch of her. And he was damaged as well, his left leg ending just above where his knee should have been, his skin decorated in the same scars she bore. Apart, they were imperfect, but together – together, they were as close to whole as they could ever hope to be.

So Katniss felt rather foolish when she hesitated, giving him a simple peck on the lips or cheek at night before curling into his warmth, her thoughts lingering on more. And even when she mustered up enough courage to deepen their kisses and move her body closer to his, Peeta would break off first, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead before they settled into bed. Was he afraid that he might have a flashback and hurt her? Did he think that _she_ was too frightened to make love to him? And perhaps, deep down, there was a part of her that was scared. But Peeta had only truly been dangerous in the beginning, in those nightmarish days and weeks after his rescue from the Capitol. He had never intentionally hurt her, and even when he'd shaken her just a tad too roughly it had been the unexpectedness, the suddenness of the act – along with a culmination of things – that sent her running.

Perhaps he _was_ afraid that if he lost himself to another flashback he might do something far worse than jostling her.

She found herself sitting on the couch one afternoon, beet-red, stuttering out her problem to Dr. Florian.

"Have you talked to Peeta about any of this?" The doctor asked after Katniss managed to explain the situation.

Of course the answer was no.

"Well, you know what I'm going to say about that…" Dr. Florian replied.

"I just didn't know if there was anything that could be done – a medication he could take, something…" Katniss inquired. Maybe it would ease Peeta's mind if there were a pill he could take.

"Well, from what I know about his case from Dr. Aurelius, Peeta was on a lot of different medications during his reversal therapy. It was quite a cocktail." Dr. Florian revealed. "The doctors had to do a lot of tweaking, and then once he was improving, they weaned him off."

Katniss thought about weaning herself off of morphling and how awful that experience had been.

"And I'm not supposed to be discussing _any_ of this with you," Dr. Florian declared quickly.

"Peeta wouldn't care…" Katniss nearly whispered into the phone.

In the eighteen years she had lived back in District Twelve, she and Peeta had never discussed his treatment in detail. Sure, there were probably some parts that he didn't want her to know, wanted to spare her. But it was more that Katniss had never really asked for specifics. She had just been amazed that he returned to her at all.

She heard the doctor sigh on the other end of the line.

"There were a lot of side effects from the treatment, the medications. I think that if one had been found to completely prevent his episodes, they would have left him on it…" Dr. Florian concluded.

Of course the doctors had done everything in their power to treat Peeta's hijacking. Katniss felt rather daft to think that Peeta could just take a pill and be free of flashbacks. The doctor's had tried, and she was grateful that he had returned and fallen in love with her all over again.

"How often is he having flashbacks?" The doctor asked after a long pause, startling Katniss from her thoughts.

"Not often," she replied, trying to calculate the interval between each episode. "I'd say about once every two to three months, if that."

"And you know to watch for and to avoid triggers?" Dr. Florian inquired.

Katniss remembered the list Dr. Aurelius had made her write down during one of their earlier conversations. She had picked up a pen all those years ago, her fingers trembling and her heart thrumming in her throat. At that point, she had only seen Peeta once since his return to District Twelve. What if _she_ was at the top of that list?

Loud noises, bright flashes of light, needles, the sight of blood, pain…all of those things made sense as something that might set Peeta off. And it wasn't certain that any one of those _would_ trigger a flashback. Sometimes the episodes seemed random, the trigger unknown.

"What about you, Katniss, are you experiencing any side effects from the medication?" Dr. Florian asked.

At first, one of the pills had made her dizzy, had caused dry mouth. Then her medications had been changed and the new pills made her head feel clouded and her hands tremble. Dr. Florian had decreased the dosage and that had helped. And he had assured her that once her body got used to the drugs, the side effects should improve.

"Not really," Katniss responded. "Not that I notice." The doctor was quiet for a bit, as if he were taking notes.

"Now this class of medication can sometimes cause sexual side effects…" Katniss felt her face burn at the doctor's words.

Their conversation had ended soon after that, but the blush that had spread from the tips of Katniss's ears to the base of her neck took much longer to resolve.

She knew she needed to talk to Peeta, but each night when he planted a kiss on the top of her head or she pressed her lips quickly to the corner of his mouth, the words stuck in her throat and before long, he would be sound asleep.

When Katniss woke to Peeta's screams one night, she didn't hesitate moving toward him as he thrashed in bed. She knew she wasn't strong enough to hold him down, but she could offer him some sense of comfort. They had dealt with each other's nightmares for almost twenty years, ever since the horrors of the 74th Hunger Games. So Katniss wrapped her arms around Peeta, even as he struggled to pull away, still caught up in the haze of sleep. She shushed him soothingly, as she did for Willow or Sage, stroking his hair back from his sweat-covered forehead. She found herself singing the words to the Valley Song ever so softly, listening for any sign that Peeta had woken Sage or Willow. But everything was quiet, apart from her song and his heavy breathing. Peeta's blue eyes flew open then, and he looked bewildered for a moment before catching sight of Katniss. She sang every verse of the song quietly, her hands on his face.

"It was bad, huh?" She asked once the song ended. She knew better than to ask just what the nightmare had been about. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

Peeta nodded, his chest still rising quickly with his labored breathing. He closed his eyes and let out a heaving sigh before turning back toward Katniss. He raised a hand to her ear, tucking a stray lock of hair back in place. His fingers lingered at her jaw, his skin warm against hers. Their mouths were inches apart, his blue eyes locked on hers, and she knew that he wasn't trapped in his nightmare any longer.

His lips were soft and pliable beneath hers as she closed the distance between them, her hands running along his neck, his arms, his back. When he tried to pull away after only a moment, Katniss tightened her grip, moving so that her body was flush against his. He moved his hands to her waist and she felt a thrill run through her, to her very core. But then he pushed her back, breaking away from the kiss.

"Katniss, I…" He stammered out.

"Peeta…" She breathed his name, willing herself not to move closer for fear of being pushed away again.

"I just…I don't want to hurt you…" He managed, his blue eyes wide in the darkened room. Katniss was only silent for a moment.

"Peeta, you're _not_ going to hurt me – " She started.

"You don't know that," he cut her off quickly, a pained look passing across his face.

"Peeta…" She pled. "When have you _ever_ hurt me while we were kissing or…doing more?" She asked, pausing for a moment while he remained silent.

"You've never…you've never hurt me. You've never even had a flashback during…" She felt color rise in her cheeks. She didn't have a way with words like Peeta, so she could only hope that she was getting her point across.

Katniss scooted closer, her hands moving up to cup his face. Peeta was quiet, and she took it as a good sign that he wasn't arguing. She could tell he was deep in thought, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Peeta…" She breathed his name again. "I..I need you…"

She was praying that she didn't have to go into great detail on the implications of her statement when his lips came crashing down on hers. His warm hands pushed up the hem of her nightgown, his fingers curling tightly around her waist. And for once in the past few weeks she didn't feel the least bit shy when her hands found the flat plane of his abdomen or when her bare legs hooked around his hips.

As Katniss healed and her children grew, so did the district. It had been eighteen years since the firebombing, and the last of the charred remains had long ago been torn down and rebuilt or simply overgrown, the forest reclaiming much of the unused land. There were no hollow eyes or sunken cheekbones to haunt Katniss. No one starved, and even if there was a harsh season or a family fell on hard times, there were plenty in the district who had more than enough to share. The children were healthy and happy with no fear of the Reaping looming over their heads. Of course it was taught in school, but as history, as an atrocity of the past. And Katniss could usually tell when that subject was touched on in school, for eyes would grow wide and children might point and whisper when they saw her out and about.

And Marc and Anabel's children would bring it up on occasion, asking questions to Uncle Peet or Aunt Kat, the dinner table growing quiet except for Anabel's nervous giggle. Katniss and Peeta would answer them as honestly as possible, knowing that the children would never truly understand. But at least they wouldn't forget.

Anabel would watch after Willow and Sage while Katniss went out to hunt. When Addie – Marc and Anabel's middle child – wasn't in school, she would often babysit for her favorite "aunt" and "uncle." They were all growing up so fast, Katniss realized. Even Willow seemed to sprout up another inch every month. It was hard to believe that twenty years had passed since Katniss had fought in that first arena, since she had defied a nation to save the boy with the bread. Her mother sent word from Annie Cresta, and a picture of Finn, and Katniss's breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat to see Finnick O'dair staring back up at her. Of course it wasn't Finnick, he had been dead for as many years as his son was old. But Finn, now nineteen, looked just like his father. He was already breaking hearts, Mrs. Everdeen declared, and Katniss felt her heart break a little as well.

Everyone was getting older, Greasy Sae being the oldest of them all. By the time Sage was born, she must have been at least eighty. She only made the trek out to the Victor's Village once or twice a year, when Peeta begged her to come over for dinner or when Katniss's mother was in town. Sae's granddaughter had moved in with her years earlier, and so the older woman did have someone to help out around her tiny house. She still cooked for the Harvest Festival every year, selling out of her mystery meat stew well before the day was done. Of course the meat wasn't _truly_ a mystery, as it was usually squirrel or rabbit or both. Or if Katniss was lucky, it was venison. Greasy Sae's true pride and joy, however, was her garden. She could often be found amongst row after row of herbs and vegetables, her basket piled high with the fruits of the season, pulling stray weeds. Katniss often sat with the older lady when the weather was nice, letting Willow get her hands dirty planting seeds and pulling weeds. And Katniss would sit beside Sae on the bench Peeta had made from an old porch swing, the gray-haired woman holding Sage close.

And Thom had gone from mayor to councilman to District Twelve representative – a position that was created under the new government. It necessitated frequent trips to the Capitol and Peeta would oftentimes accompany him. It never got any easier, Peeta going off to the Capitol for a prosthesis fitting or to help Thom garner support for a new project in the district, but Katniss knew that if it benefitted her husband's health or the health of the area, she could part with him for a few days. There were no more Peacekeepers, the Districts electing their own sheriffs and bailiffs to impose some sense of order. And for the most part there was peace, public drunkenness being the most common crime, followed by minor theft and assault – which usually went hand in hand with the public drunkenness.

Sometimes Thom took Leevy and Tommy to the Capitol, and there would be a rift in Katniss's chest when she thought of not being able to go with Peeta. Perhaps when Willow and Sage were older she would let them go on trips with their father. They could visit her mother and Annie and Finn in District Four. They could play in the sand and swim in the ocean. And maybe, one day, Katniss would be able to go with them. Over the years, Thom had offered to argue for her sake on his many trips to the Capitol, to see if they would lift her travel ban. But Katniss had shrugged it off, despite Thom's suggested appeal or Levan's smoldering outrage at the injustice of it all.

Levan had been promoted to general manager of the factory a few years back, his earnest and hardworking nature allowing him to move up the ranks. Thom and Leevy had invited Katniss and Peeta over to celebrate Levan's promotion. Peeta had been delayed in the Capitol longer than expected, snowstorms in the mountains surrounding the bustling metropolis halting all travel. Katniss had gone alone, having left thirteen year-old Addie to watch after Willow and Sage. Leevy asked after Katniss's children and Thom thoroughly embarrassed Tommy by telling the story of how one day, when the boy was five or six, he had declared that he was going to marry Willow Mellark when he grew up.

There had been warm embraces and hoots of congratulations when Levan arrived, even the normally reserved Leevy fawning over her beloved baby brother. Dinner had been delicious, dessert extravagant, and the wine and alcohol had flowed freely.

"You should have invited Haymitch," Katniss quipped to Levan over her barely-touched glass of wine. "He would know how to properly enjoy these beverages…"

Levan laughed animatedly, throwing his head back. He kept his dark hair cropped short now, and Katniss understood that he must have done so in order to move up in the ranks. He looked older with it like that, his prominent cheekbones and angled jaw no longer hidden behind a mane of black hair. His gray eyes were dancing and his cheeks flushed and it was then that Katniss realized he'd emptied several glasses of wine over the course of the evening and was now working on some dark-colored hard liquor.

"Well, you know, we wanted tonight to be a bit more _intimate_…" Levan replied with a smile, his teeth perfect and dazzlingly white.

Katniss felt uneasy with the way he stressed the word _intimate_ and she knew he had had too much to drink when he took one step too close to her. Leevy had retreated to the kitchen to clean up after dessert and Thom gone to tuck their son in for the night. Katniss suddenly wished that Peeta weren't so far away.

"You know, Katniss…" Levan began, the words coming out a bit slurred. She knew he wouldn't be acting like that if he weren't drunk. She cursed the vile liquid that Haymitch loved.

"I've admired you. No, I've _loved_ you since I was nine years old," he said in one long breath. He reeked of alcohol.

"Levan…" Katniss spoke, a hint of warning – and pity – in her tone.

"Look, I know you'll never feel the same way I do," Levan began in a rush. "You have Peeta. I mean, who could ever compete with him?"

"Levan – " Katniss repeated, praying that Leevy or Thom would reenter the room.

"No, Katniss," Levan took another step toward her, one of his hands resting lightly on her arm. "I just had to say it. And I'm sorry…" He added, his gray eyes scanning her features.

"For what?" She asked, a look of confusion on her face.

"For this," he replied, and in one swift movement, his arms were around her shoulders and his lips were on hers.

The taste of alcohol filled her senses and it took all of her strength to push him away. She dropped her glass of wine in the process, the dark liquid sloshing across the wood floor as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Oh, what happened?" Leevy asked, startling Katniss. The noise must have brought her from the kitchen. She hurried toward Katniss and Levan, dishtowel in hand.

"I accidentally bumped it, from Katniss's hand," Levan attempted to explain, swaying where he stood. "I think I've had too much to drink…"

At that, Katniss had excused herself, walking back to the Victor's Village with her arms wrapped tightly around herself against the chilly night air.

"Levan kissed me," she confessed to Peeta the day after his return from the Capitol. His blue eyes grew wide for only a moment before he laughed.

"I figured that kid would try something sooner or later," Peeta remarked. Katniss could have scowled at him for laughing. He caught the look in her eye, though.

"Do I need to punch him? Rough him up a bit?" He joked, a sparkle of mischief in his blue eyes.

"I'm glad _you're_ handling this so well…" Katniss retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

And Levan had apologized a few days later, remembering only that he had gotten drunk during his celebratory dinner and knocked a wine glass out of her hand. Or at least that's all he claimed to remember.

When Willow turned five, Peeta brought her back a bow and arrows – real, metal-tipped arrows – from the Capitol. She spent hours in the backyard on target practice, careful that Daisy wasn't near. Katniss watched with pride swelling in her chest as her daughter grew and learned to hunt. Katniss taught her how to set snares, how to tie knots and track a wounded animal and skin game. She taught Willow which plants were edible and which would make you sick. She taught Willow how to climb high and pluck eggs from a nest, always leaving a few behind to hatch.

And Katniss was glad that she had decided to leave Daisy at home with Peeta and Sage on the day she and Willow came across the wild dogs. After it had been too long to count, Katniss signaled quietly to her daughter that they would climb down now and hopefully slink away from the animals, too distracted by their kill to notice.

Katniss descended slowly, the placement of each foot carefully planned out. She dropped the remaining few feet to the forest floor, the dogs barely quirking their ears in her direction. She glanced back up where Willow sat on a high branch and motioned for her daughter to start her descent. Willow was less surefooted, but she made her way down quietly as well, Katniss catching her when she jumped from the lowest branch.

One of the dogs, its muzzle covered in blood, glanced up at them, its dark eyes transfixed, its lip snarled up in a low growl. Katniss lifted her arms up protectively, moving so that she stood between the dogs and her daughter. With painstakingly slow movements, Katniss and Willow backed away from the animals and their feast, watching for any sign of aggression or agitation. A few ears perked up and a couple of the dogs growled in warning, but none moved away from the deer. When Katniss and Willow were twenty yards from the pack, they turned around, retreating swiftly in the direction that they came.

Willow managed to shoot a large hare and Katniss brought down a grouse and a few squirrels, so the day was not an entire loss.

"Mom," Willow broke the silence that had fallen over them on their way back home, their packs laden with wild greens and game. Katniss looked at her daughter expectantly.

"I'm glad those dogs have something to eat," Willow declared. Katniss gazed down at her daughter, the true meaning of those words sinking in. She smiled.

"You know," Katniss replied. "I'm glad they have something to eat too."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** So here it is, the LAST CHAPTER. And while I originally thought this would be relatively brief, just an epilogue to go along with the one in Mockingjay, my gears started turning and I got all kinds of ideas I had to pursue. This chapter is both a happy and sad chapter, and I took a risk (you'll see), so hopefully no one will hate me for it. But I am pleased with how this chapter turned out and with the ending.

Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. You guys are an amazing group of people who have stuck with me since Young Blood. I'm just so happy that I was able to entertain so many people. And who knows? Maybe I'll revisit some of these times with Katniss and Peeta in the future. It's definitely hard, giving up these characters after I've been writing them for months. Anyway, hope you enjoy! And your feedback is always appreciated.

And one last **disclaimer** (some authors add one every chapter, but I tend to only add one at the beginning of the story): I own none of these characters/themes/places/songs, etc. They all belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

It had been Peeta's idea, to take them to the meadow. Katniss had been reluctant at first, part of her unwilling to think of the reason why he might want to visit that place. Four years had passed since they had been there, since Katniss had run off into the night and ended up in the field between the edge of town and the wilderness. And as far as Katniss knew, that was the only time Peeta had ever been there since his return to District Twelve.

So when he brought it up one evening in early spring, Katniss had felt her stomach drop for a moment before she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. He hadn't mentioned it as if it were some fun outing, not like hiking into the woods to pick blueberries or strawberries or go for a swim. They had just put Sage to bed, Katniss singing their four-year-old to sleep while Willow prepared for bed on her own. Peeta and Katniss had then peaked into their daughter's room to make sure she was all settled in, her gray eyes heavy-lidded, the soft, contented smile of ever-approaching sleep enveloping her features. They had gone back downstairs, Katniss readying her pack for her hunting trip planned the next day when Peeta mentioned the meadow. He just sat there, perched on a kitchen stool, Katniss raising an eyebrow at his request.

The unspoken question of why stood between them.

Daisy had come up to Katniss then, tongue lolling as she stood expectantly at the back door. Katniss let the dog out one last time that night, waiting by the door to let the retriever back in. Daisy's face had become spotted with white in her advancing age, but at nine, she was still rather spry. Katniss continued to take Daisy hunting, but not every day. Katniss remembered a comment Haymitch had made years ago, after he had bonded with the dog over her training.

"So when are you going to start breeding her and have some puppies running around this place?" Haymitch had asked one afternoon. Daisy was three years old and Katniss and her former mentor were in the backyard playing fetch.

"Puppies…?" Katniss replied, glancing over at Haymitch. "Daisy's never going to have puppies. Peeta had her fixed over a year ago, in the Capitol…"

Haymitch's eyes grew wide for a moment, and a look of confusion passed across his features. Then he narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth curving downward into a frown. It was then that Katniss realized Haymitch – who would never admit to loving anyone or anything – loved the dog, and had wanted one of her puppies for his own.

And Katniss hadn't thought anything about it, when Peeta took Daisy with him to the Capitol to have the surgery. She really didn't want to deal with a dog in heat. Several of their neighbors in the Victor's Village owned dogs, and there were plenty of strays across the district, not to mention the pack of feral dogs that roamed the woods. Katniss didn't want to face the prospect of a litter of puppies that no one wanted. More mouths to feed had been her first thought, and her heart clenched to think of Buttercup, now buried in the backyard.

Haymitch had made a noise of disapproval, the pained expression still lingering on his features. Despite the older man's general state of disarray, having something to look after other than himself might do him some good, Katniss thought. He still kept a flock of geese around his house, tiny goslings running after their mothers each spring. And even though he would mutter angrily whenever the geese were mentioned, he could oftentimes be found on his back step tossing corn or ripping off pieces of bread to throw in their direction.

"Haymitch, if you want a puppy, I'm sure Peeta could – " Katniss offered quickly.

"Forget about it," he cut her off, his tone angry. He turned and stomped back off toward his house, Daisy letting out a soft whine at his retreat.

Later that evening, Katniss told Peeta what Haymitch had asked.

"Who'd have ever thought, Haymitch wanting a _puppy_…?" Peeta chuckled. His blue eyes were pensive, though, and his smile faded quickly.

Katniss turned her gaze to Daisy, sprawled out on the kitchen floor, sound asleep. Something clinched in Katniss's heart, and she wished there were a way she could provide some measure of joy to her former mentor. He had almost died in the games, his stomach gaping open, his attacker killed in an ending that was both unexpected and bloody. He had defied the Capitol, won when they meant for him to lose, all before Katniss or Peeta was even born. And then he'd watched as twenty-three sets of tributes had been sent to their deaths, their only hope for victory a quick and painless death.

She remembered the night Haymitch had finally decided to contribute to the book of memories, the look of determination – and sorrow – on his features as he tried to remember each and every one of them. When had he begun to drown his sorrows in alcohol? After the first ones were killed? After the fifth, after the tenth…? When had he realized that despite his best efforts, the odds would always be against them? And yet he continued to defy the Capitol with his drunken antics, his disregard for the games, the tributes. He had lived his own quiet rebellion until Katniss and Peeta came along – one determined to win so that she could return to her sister, the other only hoping that he would stay true to himself, that in the end, he wouldn't be a piece in the Capitol's game.

And Peeta could have easily brought back another puppy from his next trip to the Capitol. Katniss could have said the words and there her husband would be, a few days later, a golden ball of fur wriggling in his arms. But Haymitch would have cursed, probably even refused the animal – not because he didn't want the dog, but because it wouldn't be Daisy's, and the gesture would have been made out of some sense of obligation and pity on Katniss's part. No, their former mentor wouldn't want that at all.

Haymitch didn't bring up the matter again. He still wandered over to Katniss and Peeta's back yard a few times each week, making small talk with Katniss while he threw a stick or a ball or a toy for Daisy to fetch until she wore herself out. He'd offer a piece of candy to Willow – once she was old enough that Katniss didn't have to confiscate the potential choking hazard, that is – and scoop the child up for a hug. And Willow would beam proudly when he praised her skill with her bow, regardless if she hit the target. And when Sage was old enough to totter about, Katniss would let the corners of her mouth twitch up into a smile when she noticed how Haymitch would keep one eye on the toddler at all times.

But soon Sage would no longer be a toddler. He was starting his first year of school in the fall, and Katniss could hardly believe that almost five years had passed since he was born. Whatever force governed the workings of the universe had seen fit to turn the wheel of time faster each year. It was the only way Katniss could account for the way that days and weeks blurred into months and years until she was just shy of her 41st birthday when it felt like only yesterday she had been nineteen and newly married. She knew that every moment with Sage and Willow was precious, that in what seemed like the span of a few heartbeats they had grown from the babies she had nursed at her breast into swift, strong, and smart little beings. She saw it in the way Peeta looked at them, the way he cherished each day that he took off from the bakery. Having two young children, Peeta rarely retreated to the study to paint alone, but would spend the day coloring vivid pictures alongside Sage or naming each flower that Willow plucked from the backyard. There were more stories – real and not real – more playtime and songs and laughter.

And so when Peeta had stated rather matter-of-factly that he wanted to go to the meadow – wanted them _all_ to go to the meadow – and all mirth had drained from his voice and features, Katniss's heart had clenched at the words left unspoken.

It had been a hard year for everyone, each season bringing some measure of sorrow to the District. Last spring, the area had been inundated with heavy rainfall. The creeks and rivers had overflowed, flooding some of the more low-lying areas. Dewey Blackwell and his two children had been swept away early one morning, their lifeless, bloated bodies found some days later. Willow knew the oldest Blackwell boy from school, and she had cried for days after the funeral. Peeta and Katniss had finally sat down with her, opening the book of memories to a blank page, pressing a pen into their daughter's hand. She had looked up at them, somewhat confused at first, but then Peeta nodded toward the empty space and offered her an encouraging smile. Willow's hand was steady as she wrote, describing the boy she had known, the boy who had teased her for her two braids during their first year in school, but who had taken to sitting near her at lunch and offering her quiet smiles in the next. She had often shared her cookies with him, the ones that her father frosted so delicately – flowers for spring, autumn leaves and pumpkins for fall, snowflakes and holly for winter.

Only this spring, she wouldn't be able to share any of the frosted sugar cookies with him.

Katniss helped Willow paste in a picture of the boy – his dark hair combed back, his shirt crisp in the yearly school photo – and wrapped a protective arm around her daughter. Peeta had gone off with Sage, who didn't quite understand why everyone was crying but knew that it meant he had to be the loudest of them all.

It had been ages since Willow had asked for a song at bedtime, but that night Peeta and Katniss both hovered over their daughter, and when Willow called her mother close and begged her softly to sing, Katniss didn't hesitate.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open, the sun will rise._

And the sun did rise again. Some mornings were worse than others, Katniss lying listless on the couch after Peeta left for the bakery and Willow was sent off to school. Sage would stand there and giggle at his mother, looking pitiful and rather ridiculous in a pile of quilts on the sofa. She would reach out a hand to ruffle the soft, golden curls on his head and he would laugh in pure and unblemished joy, then run away, the sound of his feet on the wood drumming like the quickening of her heart. And some days it would take all of her strength, all of her willpower to get up and chase after him and make sure he wasn't into some mischief. She would help him spread out paper and watercolors and pencils on the kitchen table and watch from her perch on a stool as he sketched and painted in the beautifully disastrous manner of a four year-old.

And some days she would take her son into town, his fingers never quite wanting to stay in her grasp. He had to stop and pet every animal, wave to every person he recognized – or didn't recognize – as they made their way through the square.

"He's definitely Peeta's son," folks would tell her, gazing at the toddler who never met a stranger. And Katniss would smile politely, tugging Safe toward the bakery as he waved good-bye. He knew more the townsfolk by name than even she did sometimes.

"Sage Mellark!" She would fuss, her gray eyes meeting his matching gaze. "You can't just run up and pet a dog you don't know…I know Daisy is friendly and all – "

"_Momma_," he would plead loudly, cutting her off. "I _do_ know him! That's Red, Mr. Leeland's coon dog…" He would explain. Katniss had just shaken her head at him and let out a sigh as they neared the bakery.

"Dadda!" Sage had yelled, catching sight of his father from the entranceway.

Peeta lifted the boy into the air with a laugh, then positioned him at a table near the back, setting down a plate of cookies for a snack. Then he had smiled warmly at Katniss, bending to kiss her in greeting.

"How does our son know Leeland Moss…? Or that he has a coonhound named Red…?" She asked Peeta, her arms folded across her chest, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Peeta had just shrugged and let out a soft chuckle as he replied.

"He's a friendly kid, what can I say?" He said, a good-natured grin spreading across his features. "He gets it from me…" He added in a conspiratorial tone.

"That's not all he gets from you…" Katniss replied wryly, grabbing the collar of Peeta's shirt to pull him close for another kiss.

Her children were not the only good things in her life, but for Katniss, Willow and Sage – along with Peeta – were a substantial source of joy. And some days the weight of her past was too much, the nightmares too real, so Katniss would form a list in her head of all the good things she could remember. Willow, who was smart and kind, brave and determined. Sage, with his happy laugh and cheerful nature. Haymitch, who acted surly and standoffish, but who loved her children with a bond that was stronger than any formed by blood. Greasy Sae, proud of her garden, sending Katniss herbs and fruits and vegetables during each season. Sae – the thought of the old woman made Katniss remember a comment Sae had made a few years back.

It was early fall and Willow had just started back to school, so Katniss had gone to visit Sae. Katniss found her and her granddaughter in the garden, the younger woman picking herbs while Sae rested on the bench Peeta had made her. Katniss sat down beside Greasy Sae, while Sage – who was sixteen months old – tottered over to inspect the plants. Katniss kept one eye on her son while Sae spoke, mentioning idle district gossip before asking after Peeta. Katniss felt her lips curl into a smile as she replied with some generic statement on her husband's wellbeing.

"I always knew you two would work things out," Greasy Sae stated matter-of-factly. "Things like that, they just have a way of working…"

Katniss had looked up from where Sage was "helping" Sae's granddaughter by violently ripping out clumps of rosemary, but the old woman was gazing out past the garden as she spoke, as if her memories of that distant time were somewhere out in the infinite sky.

"All you needed was a little nudge," Sae said after a long pause, a hint of laughter in her voice. She did look at Katniss then, a twinkle in her eyes. Katniss exhaled in a huff, but then smiled.

Yes, the good definitely outweighed the bad.

But pain and sorrow still existed in the world, and sometimes they found a way back into Katniss's life.

It was late winter, the threat of one last freeze before the thaw looming overhead. It had been a hard winter for man and animal alike, and more than once Katniss had been chased by a pack of hungry wild dogs. Willow had whined and begged and cried, but Katniss simply refused to let the nine year-old go out to hunt under those circumstances. Katniss even left Daisy at home, so Willow didn't sulk quite so much.

It had been an unsuccessful day in the woods, Katniss coming home empty-handed to a quiet house. Peeta was at the bakery and she had dropped off Sage and a protesting Willow at Marc and Anabel's earlier that morning. She was just shedding her layers when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver, and there was a pause in which she could hear the sound of breathing before anyone spoke.

"Katniss…" A male voice said. It wasn't Peeta or Dr. Florian. The voice on the other end was deep and rough and belonged to someone she hadn't spoken to in years.

Gale Hawthorne.

"Katniss," he repeated, almost pleadingly. Her mind reeled, disbelief warring with a thousand different thoughts such that she almost missed what he said next.

"It's mom – it's Hazelle," he said. "She passed away early this morning…" And Katniss wasn't sure if there was static on the line or his voice was breaking.

It took a moment for the reality of his statement to sink in. Hazelle. Hazelle Hawthorne was dead. The woman must have been in her sixties by now, but Katniss could only picture her as she'd seen her last – much younger, healthier, and alive.

"How…?" It was the only thing Katniss could muster. She should have offered him some sympathy, at least, before she went prying, but she hadn't heard from him in years, and now he had called her to tell her that his mother had died…?

"She'd been sick for a while," Gale explained, his voice back to its normal cadence. "She and Posy moved to the Capitol so she could have access to the best doctors. They said it was some form of cancer. They said they tried everything. But they couldn't save her…"

Gale's voice broke again, only this time it took him much longer to regain his composure.

"I'm so sorry…" Katniss offered, still confused as to why he was calling her.

Katniss had only kept in touch with Gale's mother a handful of years after the Hawthornes had come to her wedding. Hazelle had written to Katniss a few times a year, sending news and the occasional photo of her children. But that correspondence had dwindled to once a year, then none at all. But Katniss knew that Hazelle had kept in touch with her mother, to some extent, as Mrs. Everdeen would mention the woman and her family from time to time.

"She asked…she wanted to be buried back in Twelve, because of my father…" Gale explained, speaking the words as if he did not want them to be true.

And then Katniss understood. She understood why he had called, still fresh in his grief over Hazelle's passing. They were all coming – Gale, Rory, Vick, and Posy. Gale had been on the phone all morning, making the arrangements, clearing everything through the mayor. He wanted to make sure his mother had a proper burial – one that his father never had.

The burial that _her_ father never had.

Katniss didn't know how long she had been sitting on the couch after she got off the phone with Gale. It seemed like the phone rang again within a few minutes of his call, but the light was growing dim outside and she knew quite some time must have passed. She didn't remember picking up the phone, but suddenly the headset was at her ear.

"Oh Katniss, Hazelle Hawthorne passed away…" It was her mother, who must have just found out as well.

"I know. Gale called…" Katniss replied, the words sounding hollow.

"Posy called me just now," Mrs. Everdeen explained.

Posy had revealed more details to Katniss's mother of Hazelle's decline in health, the girl having been Hazelle's caretaker for the past few years. Ovarian cancer. That's what did it. Slow and insidious, the tumor had grown until Hazelle started losing weight, felt too fatigued to work, and had unexplained pains in her low abdomen. Mrs. Everdeen, being a healer, knew the prognosis was grim, but in all the letters Hazelle had sent her over the past few years, none had mentioned the deadly disease.

"I'm coming there, for the funeral…" Katniss felt a sense of relief wash over her to know that her mother would be in town for the service.

When Katniss told Peeta later that night, he went quiet for a long while. Peeta had picked up Sage and Willow from Marc and Anabel's on his way home from the bakery. Dinner had been subdued, Willow still pouting over the fact that she hadn't been allowed to go hunting, Sage grumpy at first because he had refused to nap at Anabel's, then nodding off over his plate of food at the kitchen table. Peeta had noticed the change in Katniss's mood and had given her inquiring looks, to which she had softly replied, "later." Once the children were in bed, Katniss and Peeta had retreated to the kitchen to clean up.

Peeta looked surprised at the news, and he didn't respond immediately. His blue eyes wandered in thought, then settled back on hers.

"Oh wow…Hazelle Hawthorne…" He spoke her name as a distant memory. Of course Peeta had been acquainted with Gale's mother, had greeted her warmly when she came to their wedding. But Katniss wondered how much of the pre-hijacking days he remembered.

"Katniss…are you alright?" He asked, stepping toward her and placing his warm hands on her arms. She ducked her head for a moment, then looked up to meet his gaze.

She couldn't help but cry then, the weight of it all hitting her. But Peeta was there, wrapping her up in a tight embrace, stroking her long, dark hair as she cried softly into his shirt.

The service was a small affair, consisting of Gale, Rory and Vick and their wives, and Posy, who was all grown up and could have passed for Katniss's sister. Greasy Sae came, leaning heavily on her granddaughter. Thom and Leevy were there, as well as a few other men who had worked with Gale in the mines all those years ago. Haymitch showed up late, and surprisingly sober. Katniss stood between her mother and Peeta, who had one arm around her waist. She leaned into him, letting the heat from his body warm her on that chilly morning.

And each one of Hazelle's children spoke, staring into the gaping hole where her casket lay. Then Posy asked through tears if anyone else would like to speak. Everyone was quiet, their faces red from crying and the cold winter air. And before Katniss could stop herself, the words flowed out in a broken song.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise._

At the start of the chorus others joined in, their voices just as broken as hers.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

Gale gave Katniss a long look afterward, gray eyes meeting gray eyes. Ever so slightly, he tilted his chin down and then back up, as if nodding to say "thank you." Then they all took a turn scooping up a handful of dirt and tossing it into the grave, the sound of it hitting the wooden casket marring the sacred solemnity of the service.

Later that night, Thom and Leevy had everyone over for dinner. Katniss was glad she didn't have that responsibility, cooking for a dozen people, not to mention the children. Katniss and Peeta had spared Willow and Sage the service – one funeral was enough for that year – but brought them to dinner. Gale actually managed a smile when he saw the two.

"They're great, Katniss. They really are…" Gale said, watching as Willow and Sage followed Tommy around like two little ducklings.

And Katniss didn't mention the irony, the fact that Gale was the one who had said, all those years ago, that he wanted to get married, to have a family. Yet here he was, in his early forties and single as far as she could tell. Katniss had been the one to think she would never get married, never bring children into such a cruel world.

Oh how the tables had turned.

"You let your hair grow out..." Gale mentioned at some point that evening. Katniss had left her hair unbraided that day, the long locks falling to her hips. It was warmer that way.

"Yeah," Katniss replied, feeling herself break into a smile when she caught sight of Peeta across the room. "Yeah, I did..."

And Gale looked from Katniss to where her gaze was fixed on her husband, then back to the slight curve of her lips, the way her features softened when she looked at Peeta. Long ago, it had been Gale who had that effect on her.

"I'm happy for you, Katniss." Gale said, his voice earnest. "I really am..."

They left the next day, all the Hawthornes and their spouses heading back to the districts in which they lived. Katniss didn't go to the station to see them off, but her mother did, coming back down the lane to the Victor's Village with her mouth set in a hard line, her eyes red as if she had been crying.

Katniss and Peeta added Hazelle's page to the book of memories that night, Mrs. Everdeen contributing as well.

It had been a hard year, and so when Peeta told Katniss that he wanted them all to go to the meadow, she fooled herself at first into thinking that she didn't know why. But the reason was unmistakable – Peeta wanted to visit the place where his family was buried.

So on a warm day that spring, Katniss and Peeta and their two children set out for the meadow. Daisy walked along beside them tongue lolling, happy to be out of doors. It was a short walk to that place, to the clearing that once designated the boundary of District Twelve – a line that Katniss had crossed time and time again.

She took Peeta's hand in her own when they arrived, letting Willow and Sage frolic in the tall grasses and wildflowers with Daisy. They didn't know – couldn't know – that they were playing atop a mass grave. But the questions had already started, and Katniss and Peeta had done their best to answer them without revealing too much. Willow knew the book of memories, but didn't fully understand it. And Katniss knew there would be a time and place for all of that, when Willow and Sage were older.

As Katniss watched her children play, happy and healthy and completely unaware of the sorrow that was buried there, the words to the song repeated in her head.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

Peeta was crying, so she tightened her hold on his hand. He looked at her then, the pain in his blue eyes almost too much to bear. And she wondered how he got on all these years without succumbing to his grief. How he dealt with it – perhaps it was through working long hours in the bakery, sketching and drawing and painting, spending time with Katniss and their two children. Perhaps he too had a list of all the good things in his life and recounted them one by one when his heart started to ache. She'd never had to ask because he had always been strong enough for the both of them.

She offered him a kindhearted smile and squeezed his hand again.

"They're here…" She said, almost as a whisper. To think of all who lost their lives now resting eternally in that meadow, covered in a bed of flowers, it was almost comforting. Almost.

"No," Peeta replied, and Katniss looked up at him, confused for a moment. "No, they're _here_," he continued, raising the hand that wasn't in hers to cover his heart.

And so she turned toward him then, closing her eyes against the blinding sun as she moved in for a kiss. His lips were warm and the kiss tasted of salt. And Katniss knew that whatever they faced in the future, they would face it together, their souls inextricably linked. Their strength one in the same.

**The End.**


End file.
